Shadow Roulette
by midgeteen
Summary: "Peter Pan always gets what he wants." Well, then that brat needs a serious reality check, because he won't ever have me.
1. Chapter One

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I know the idea of a Peter Pan/OC has been kinda overused, but I really wanted to write one simply because he was practically my childhood boyfriend and now that I'm all grown up and seeing this dark, evil Peter Pan my childhood crush is resurfacing! Haha, anyways, here you go! I just want to see how this goes! Please let me know in a review when you are finished!**

**FAIR WARNING: This OC is very crude and has a habit of cussing. This might end up being one of the most vulgar fanfictions you'll have ever read in your entire life. Insults and cussing galore, with a hint of heated romance scenes that shouldn't go past a bit of grinding but if so the rating will be changed and I will give you all yet another warning. But, in the meantime, be warned that this OC isn't all fairytales and sunshine. She's realistic, as will be this fanfiction if I don't give into any temptations to rush things! Please enjoy!**

**Chapter One**

"_Peter Pan always gets what he wants." Well, that brat wasn't getting me!_

Okay, this really took the cake for the official 'Weirdest Dream Ever Award'. Not only was I in the middle of a forest, trying my best to fit inside of a bush, but I was being chased by teenagers who all thought this was one huge, sick game of hide-and-seek.

I understand if you're confused right now, no back story and not a clue of what's going on. Trust me, I understand _completely_, because in that moment I had neither of which to explain to you. I couldn't remember where I had been a couple of hours ago nor could I recall what I had been doing to make me land here, wherever '_here_' was. I concluded about thirty minutes ago that I was definitely lost in the woods somewhere, it was nighttime, and I really wish that I had packed a jacket. Instead, I was forced to run around in a very loose sweater I had on earlier that day to wear to school, a tank top as an undershirt, some high-heeled boots, some tights, and a pair of ripped up shorts over said tights. I honestly looked like a hooker, but I couldn't remember why I had dressed this way. It was freezing cold outside!

Oh, and might I mention that this sweater was making my life a living hell? It kept getting caught on everything as I ran and made it twice as difficult to force myself into the bush I currently was hiding in. As I've stated a million times now, I had no idea how I got here or what made me think coming out here dressed like this was a good idea, but it sure as hell was a stupid ass idea. I suppose I still had reason to believe that this was all some really fucked up dream, but the chilly air definitely felt real.

There was a small sound of voices nearby, obviously they were trying to be quiet and not alarm me if I were anywhere near them. There was no way of deciphering what they were saying, but who cared? They were just a bunch of punks who happened to be huddled around me when I woke up in this strange forest. What if when I woke up they were just about to eat me? Sure, it wasn't polite to jump to conclusions like that, but it also wasn't nice to kidnap me and act all cannibalistic!

They must've heard me when I hitched my breath in surprise as I heard the sound of a tree branch snapping, because all noise suddenly stopped. One of the boys giggled—yes, _giggled_—and started to whistle an unknown tune to me. I suppose this was his way of taunting me, because that was an ugly ass song.

I poked my head out only just slightly to see if I could catch a glimpse of any of my stalkers, but I saw nothing. Had they walked right passed me? I duck my head back into the bush for a good five more minutes, or at least it felt like that, before poking my head back out and seeing nothing but footprints walking to the right of the bush I was hiding in. Deciding to take the leap of faith, I scrambled out of the bush, promptly landing on my face, then I jumped right back up and bolted for the path ahead, with only the sound of laughter following me.

I heard them exclaiming something about how fun this was, chasing a newcomer who actually thought they stood a chance against them.

_You bastards still haven't caught me yet and its been, like, three hours, so I'll say that yeah, I think I've got a pretty good chance._

A small part of me also noticed that it's been three hours of me _running_ from them, and there was still a high chance of being caught seeing as I haven't found any way out of this forest yet and I still hadn't an idea of where I was. Well, shit.

Stumbling while running turned out to be something I was rather good at, but wasn't very well-appreciated. You see, I always managed to regain my balance, but each moment I wasted doing so was another moment those psychos were closer to catching me. Thank god all those years in soccer gave me the agility that I needed to keep outrunning them, but I was quickly losing my breath and there was no way I'd be able to keep up all of this running.

_I'm not going to end up being someone's meat sandwich. Just keep running, just keep running. Just keep—whoa, I could totally climb that tree._

I hoisted myself onto the first branch of the tree and paused for a split second to see if my kidnappers were caught up with me yet. They hadn't caught up yet, so I continued to rush my climbing until I was well up into the tree and was hidden by the tree leaves, remaining unseen by anyone below. My plan seemed to work as I heard the cawing and crowing of the psychos from down below running by the tree I had climbed up into. A sigh of relief almost passed by my lips, but I was too shaken up to be able to release it. I almost felt like if I released it, they'd hear it and come back for me to feast on my bones.

Hugging my knees closely to my chest, I leaned back onto the trunk of the tree, managing to stay balanced on the thick tree branch as I continued to shake in fear. Here I was, three hours into my little forest adventure, and I was about as close to figuring out what was going on as I was when I woke up with those psychopaths surrounding me, staring at me like I was some sort of enchanted object. That alone had been enough to startle me awake and when they said something about taking me to meet their leader (was his name Parlow? Maybe Harvey. I wasn't paying much attention, to be honest), well, that had been the final straw. I ran like hell and three hours later, here I am hiding in a tree.

Wow, this really sucks.

_Wait_.

I froze, _feeling_ a presence just beside me. There was no point in looking to see who it was, it was pretty obvious that I had been caught.

"You've got skill, I'll give you that," the boy's voice drawled out.

Not wanting to lose whatever pride I had left, I forced my head to look around to the branch nearby me only to see a boy there. He wasn't hooded or all covered in scars like the others had been (well, only one was, but still), but he didn't need them to be intimidating. Just one look at him and I knew that this was the leader they had intended on taking me to, but there was no point in that now.

That's when it hit me, he had been here waiting for me. I had fallen into a trap.

I nearly let the f-bomb out just as the boy began to speak again, "I have to admit, I'm quite impressed that you've made it this far. Most who run either end up dead within the first hour, or they trip and break something so my boys usually catch up pretty easily. You girls, especially, have a tendency to get caught rather easily."

Nothing came out of my mouth, I was sure to keep it tightly shut as I stared at the boy. Why were all of these sick fucks so young? None of them could've been older than I was! Usually, kidnappers happened to be older and much more easier to lose after three hours of running. But, these boys were persistent and much more dangerous than any other person I've had to deal with. I've had arrows shot at me, a sword thrown at me, and all of the shots were just short of hitting me. I had a feeling, though, that they were only trying to scare me, that if they really wanted to, I would've been dead by now.

The boy noticed the way I was analyzing him just as he was analyzing me and smiled pleasantly, which would have been comforting if I couldn't see the clear as day sinister intent to it. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from beside me and I choked on a gasp as he appeared right in front of me, squatting not even two inches away from me. "What the hell," I breathed, that all being I could manage out of me at the time.

He chuckled at my response. "Most girls just gasp in enchantment, but I suppose that'll do enough to say that you're surprised for now." What the hell was this asshole spitting out now? "What is your name, Girl?"

I tensed, not wanting to answer him. He seemed to catch on quite quickly and the maliciousness behind his eyes faded, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was just that good of an actor.

He offered me his hand, almost as if it were a peace offering. "Where are my manners? My name is Peter—Peter Pan."

I coughed. "Wh-What?"

He gave me a weird stare. "Are you deaf?" Realizing that his rude nature was revealing itself again, he quickly recovered by saying, "I said my name is Peter Pan."

"Yeah, I got that!" I snapped at him. "But, unless your parents really hated you, your name can't possibly be Peter Pan."

His eyes darkened slightly, but there was also a slight mixture of amusement in them. How was that possible? Did he have a bipolar disorder? "And what could possibly be so wrong with my name?"

"He's an elf in green tights!" I couldn't help but exclaim, continuing to stare at this boy in disbelief. "I mean, I'm wearing tights, but I'm also not a guy who wears leaves as a dress! And—and he has pointy elf ears! And he's a ginger! So, no, I don't think your parents would ever name you after him." As an afterthought, I added, "And he kidnapped little girls out of their windows! So, no, I don't think any parent would give that name to any kid they actually loved."

He stared at me almost curiously, like he was trying to comprehend what I had just told him. He let out a chuckle that could only be described as disbelieving. "That's how they portray me in this realm you come from?"

The word 'realm' made me freeze. What drugs was this guy on? "Okay, back to the more serious matters at hand, I need to get back home." I pushed myself up against the trunk of the tree, suddenly very much aware of the lack of space between this boy and me. "I think your little minions down there were trying to eat me, and quite frankly if I'm going to die it's not going to be by cannibals."

This made him laugh again, shaking his head at me. What had I said that was so funny? I was being perfectly serious! "Cannibals? The Lost Ones? Is that how they're portrayed in your realm as well?"

This 'realm' talk was spooking me out, but I chose not to make a comment on it. This guy had to have been on some major drugs. But then again, I must've been as well, because I still couldn't remember for the life of me how I ended up in this weird place. "Look, just let me go," I half-pleaded. Even if he wouldn't let me go, I still could probably hold my own long enough to get away from him. He seemed lanky enough.

He suddenly stopped laughing and his expression got more serious, but the mischief and deviousness remained that had stood there right from the moment I laid eyes on him. Really, the only way to describe the look in his eyes was that they were _terrifying_.

Reaching out to tap me lightly on the nose, invading my personal face as he continued to try and intimidate me, succeeding in doing so (not that I'd ever admit it), he spoke so lowly that I could barely hear him, "I was originally planning on that."

A random stare down match began between the two of us and while this definitely wasn't the time for fun and games, I was too stubborn to allow myself to lose. Speaking in a tone almost as low as his was, I pressed, "And will you?'

His smirk widened to stretch across his face. My heart stopped as he told me an answer that made me feel as though I were going to puke up whatever pride and confidence I had left after the recent events of this night, "No."

My breath hitched and I mentally cursed because we both knew that he heard it. "Why?" I forced myself to ask, despite the lack of use in it.

"Why would you want to leave?" he threw back at me casually, reaching to push a strand of my rather short hair behind my ear, but out of instinct I smacked his hand away before it could come into contact with my face. His eyes showed that he clearly wasn't happy with this defiance that I put up against him.

Breathing heavily, nervously, I snapped right back at him, "And why would I ever want to stay with a bunch of boys who _kidnapped_ me?"

He snickered. "Do you even know how you got here, Girl?"

I spluttered over my words as I tried to come up with an answer that wasn't gibberish or loud, nervous laughter. One final snort of my nervous laughter filled with fake confidence, I frowned at him, "Well, not exactly." I paused. "Do you?"

"Perhaps." He leaned in closer to my face again, nearly touching me as he place both hands on either side of my face, his knees balancing him at the ends of my feet. If it hadn't been for the simple fact that I had my knees tightly hugged to my chest, he'd probably be straddling me right now, if this didn't count. Which it didn't. Totally. In fact, his presence being so close to me was highly unwelcomed. It took everything in me not to shove him off the tree branch. "Would you like to know?" he asked me in my ear, sending chills down my spine.

Was this boy trying to intimidate me or molest me?!

Losing whatever self-control I once had, I placed both of my hands on his shoulders and shoved him away from me. I might have caught him by surprised or he might've just been entertaining me, but either way the shoving put a good deal of distance between the two of us, which was much more than I could have asked for at that moment in time. He chuckled as he stood up to his feet, offering me his hand once more. "I suppose that's a conversation for another time."

I glared up at him, continuing to tightly hold onto my knees as if for dear life. "Another time? How about you just take me home and we can forget about that conversation? You know, save you the trouble of having to explain."

All trace of playfulness suddenly vanished and the chills returned to my spine. "I already told you, you're not leaving Neverland."

I froze. "Never what?"

"Neverland," his smirk returned. "That's where you are, the home of Peter Pan and the Lost Ones."

All air felt as though it had been sucked out of me. "You're on drugs."

His face showed that he didn't understand what I was talking about, but he could deduce that it meant that I thought he was absolutely crazy, so he did the one thing to convince me he was telling the truth: he jumped.

I nearly let out a scream when he made the leap of faith, afraid that I was about to witness a young boy's death, but then he started to . . . float. No, not float. _Fly._ My eyes widened in disbelief.

Smirking, he asked, "Do you believe me now?"

I shook my head, refusing to believe my eyes. I rubbed them angrily and reopened them to see that yes, he was still there in mid-air. Still doing his little floating trick, he got right up in my face again, taking my wrists that had freed my knees the moment I saw the floating boy, and he pulled me closer to him so that our faces were once again inches apart. "Do," his eyes met mine, "you," his hand let go of my right hand, "believe," his hand ghosted across my cheek, "me," this time I didn't have the strength to slap his hand away from pushing the hair behind my ear, "now?"

Even if I were supposed to answer, he let go of me before I could and I went falling to my death out of the tree. Despite my best efforts to convince myself that I refused to die a coward who screamed as she fell, I couldn't stop the half-squeak half-shriek that left my mouth as I went down practically about to belly-flop the forest grounds. Instead of falling to my imminent death, however, I was caught by a pair of strong arms that sent all air out of my stomach. The one who caught me, though, did not allow me to catch any breath to make up for what I lost as he threw me over his shoulder.

The boy who caught me laughed as if this were all some big, sick joke that they were playing on me. But, it wasn't. If it were, then I would have been let go by now. I wouldn't have been played so easily and then pushed out of a god forsaken _tree_! Why was that necessary?!

"Hello again, Girlie." I tried to kick him in the stomach, chest, wherever I could for that little comment, but it didn't do so much as make him laugh more. Was this guy made of stone or something? "That's not going to get you anywhere, you know," he drawled out painfully slow. I instantly recognized him as one of the boys who had been towering over me when I woke up. I remember the chills his voice sent through my being, how painfully slow he talked and how each word was laced with a ruthless carelessness. Just the air around him reeked of danger, and that scar on his face surely wasn't helping.

I sure hope I didn't have to receive a scar because off these dipshits. I've managed to go seventeen years with no scars on my face and I sure as heck planned to keep it that way for the rest of my life.

"Where do we take her, Peter?" the boy who held me asked, his tone now hinting at respect for the one he spoke to.

_Little bitch._

Peter, who now stood right behind him so that I was now face-to-face with the jackass, continued to smirk at me playfully. "Take her back to camp, of course."

The boy who held me tensed a bit. "You won't send her home?"

"Yeah, how about you just send me home, Petey?" I taunted, glaring daggers into the boy's nonexistent soul.

He pretended to give this a thought. "No, I quite like her. Feisty, isn't she?" he addressed the rest of the Lost Ones, who murmured their agreements to their leader. After all, who was dumb enough to disagree with a boy the same age of them? Duh.

I think this whole situation just totally ruined the male species to me. Females were starting to seem much more appealing.

"She'll be a Lost One?" one of the boys asked.

_Like hell I will!_

The boy who held me must have noticed how tense I became at being named a 'Lost One' and lifted me up in the slightest so that he could whisper in my ear, "If Peter wishes it, you will be one."

"Does he give great head or something? Why are you all such pansies and listen to him?" I hissed back at the scar-faced boy who seemed unfazed by my comment.

"Peter Pan always gets what he wants." Well, that brat wasn't getting me!

"I'll keep that in mind," I muttered sarcastically. "And when I prove you wrong I'll happily remind you all that when I get away from you psychos."

He chuckled darkly. "You can try."

"You'll need a new name if you are to become one of us," Peter Pan decided suddenly, obviously having heard the entire whisper-conversation between me and his first in command. He said nothing of it, but the look in his eye said it all.

I was taken aback by this. "And why the heck would I need a new name? You don't even know my real one!"

Peter shrugged carelessly. "And now I have no need to. From this day on, your name is going to be Puck."

I raised an eyebrow, showing my displeasure toward the name. "That fairy from that Shakespeare play?"

Peter chuckled. "You have many references from our world in your own, Puck."

I flinched at the name. "Okay, no way are we actually making this a thing. You can't just kidnap me and then give me a guy's name!"

Suddenly, he was invading my personal space again. "Oh, but you'll find that I can," he murmured menacingly. "I always get what I want, _Puck_," he taunted me with the name.

"As I've heard from Handsome right here," I tapped the scar-faced one who held me on the back lightly, every word I spoke dripping with sarcasm. "That's probably because no one's ever said 'no' to you before, right?"

He nodded. "No sane person would."

A smirk of my own danced its way onto my lips as I was the one to lean in closer to him this time, a sudden streak of confidence I never knew I had suddenly shining through the fear I was practically shaking with, "No."

A half-hearted laugh left Peter, "You honestly believe that you can just say 'no' to me?"

"I just did, didn't I?" I threw back at him. "No, no, no, no, _n—_!" my mouth was suddenly gagged with a cloth that appeared out of nowhere.

Peter jested, "I'm sorry, what was that?" as I tried to let out muffled screams. I was about to lung at him and full-out choke him to death with my wrists and ankles were suddenly tied up with rope that had also appeared out of nowhere. "You'll soon find out why no one goes against me, Puck." He noticed how I flinched at the name but said nothing of it. "And now, my dear Puck, you belong to me."

I felt the terror in me start to rise once again but I had no time to act on it as Peter gave the command to the Lost Ones to start heading back to camp. He gave some excuse that he had other matters to attend to and disappeared right before our eyes. It was up to the one who held me to lead the way as the rest followed in suit, playing with their swords and bows and arrows on the way back just I sat there, struggling with my restraints.

"It won't work, you know," Scar-Faced, as I so cleverly nicknamed him, said to me.

I passed him a questioning look that he couldn't have possibly seen, but he must have felt it.

"They're bound by Pan's magic. No matter how much you struggle, you'll never break free, Puck." I tensed up again and a low chuckle erupted from the corrupt boy. "You'd better get used to your new name, _Puck_, because that life you had before is now behind you, including your name. You're never going to be seeing that past life of yours ever again."

My cheeks heated up in frustration as I continued to struggle against him, ever so stubbornly trying to break free of the bonds they had me in. I heard him mention something about me having an admirable amount of spirit, but that hadn't been what really caught my attention—what had caught my attention was when he casually mentioned how he couldn't wait to watch me break like everyone else had before me.

By the time we reached camp, Scar-Faced and I hadn't spoken to each other anymore, other than the times he kept whistling songs I had never heard before in my life and he'd chuckle as I continued to try and break free. I had to admit, by the time we reached camp I was exhausted with all of this fighting, but I couldn't just give up right then and there. I _had_ to get out of here—away from these lost souls who obviously were too lost in whatever fantasy they had built up in their heads to ever find a way back home.

And if they were anything like how they were portrayed in the movies, they were also too lost to ever remember who their families were. That, in itself, was a sick future that I wanted no part of.

I was yanked out of my thoughts and caught by total surprise when I was thrown down onto the ground unexpectedly. A muffled shriek left me as I landed on my now-sore bum and laughs erupted from the Lost Ones who simply stared down at me, some of them even shaking their heads as if they couldn't believe that I actually gave a reaction like that.

If my bonds were free at that moment, they would have received the finger and a punch to the balls. Assholes.

"Ah, so you made it back safely with her," an easily recognizable voice from behind me noted, a hint of sinister giddiness behind it. "I was half-convinced that Puck might have outran you all again!" Peter leaned over so that he, upside down, could meet my eyes. "I trust that you had a comfortable journey, Puck?"

My glare grew with intensity that only earned another laugh from the psychopathic boy.

"She'll make a great addition to the Lost Ones!" Again, there were murmurs of agreement amongst the Lost Ones because they're all pansies who didn't want to admit that none of them really wanted me here.

The cloth that had me gagged suddenly disappeared and I let out a breath of relief mixed with slight surprise. "You have _got_ to stop that," I hissed at Peter, knowing full-well who was the one with the magic here.

He shrugged carelessly, smirking playfully down at me. "You'll get used to it, Puck. The rest have."

"Yeah, but guess what's different between them and I?" I challenged him. "They're your little followers, little pansies who don't have a backbone to speak up to you, but I'm not like any of them."

All of the boys got quiet but I couldn't decipher if it was because they were insulted by the low blow I dealt their way, or if it were because of the death glare I was currently receiving from Pan. He squatted down in front of me, one hand on his left knee as he leaned in closely much like how he had been doing all night, challenging me to yet another stare down contest that I couldn't help but take up as I met his glare defiantly.

Hey, it was his _smart_ idea to kidnap me and then keep me! He was going to have to deal with the repercussions!

I have to admit, though—I was definitely not expecting him to randomly grabbed hold of my chin, forcing me to up closer to my face. I could already feel the bruises beginning to form on my cheeks where his fingers were.

"And what makes you so different from every boy here, _Puck_? Do you honestly believe yourself above them?"

"Yes, because I absolutely refuse to give into someone like _you_."

He chuckled, although it was humorlessly. "Someone that would give you freedom and a place to be? A place in this world?"

She rolled her eyes. "I had a purpose back in my own world, with plenty of my own freedom to satisfy me to my death."

"And you only add onto my list," he hummed. "I have given you the chance to cheat death—you'll never grow up here, don't you see that, Puck? The only time death will be able to touch you is when someone else kills you, and I'll train you so that could never happen."

Had I never seen that side to him earlier, where he was so sinister, and had it not been for the current circumstances, I would have believed in him. The fake sincerity showed how great of an actor he was, and that terrified me. I painted that picture of his sinister side earlier into the back of my head, focusing hard on it so as I would never give in to this side of him, this fake sincere side that would easily eat the naïve side of me. I couldn't allow that if I were to ever find my way back home, back to my family.

"I'm not like you, though," I argued, attempting to break free of my bonds. "I'm not afraid of death, Pansy Pan."

"And yet you ran for your dear life when you thought my Lost Ones were going to eat you," he hummed in amusement.

I wanted to argue that being eaten alive wasn't exactly fearing death, but I couldn't exactly explain the difference so I just kept my mouth shut. He had this one, but that meant nothing in the long run if he truly intended on keeping me here with him. If I were staying, I was sure we'd be in a million more fights and I intended on winning most of them.

We continued to just stare defiantly at each other, trying to read each other. I was pretty sure that he had already read me like an open book the moment we locked eyes the very first time a few hours ago, but now it was my turn to read him. Except, I couldn't read him as easily as he had read me. I stared at his eyes, trying to find some loop of emotions in his eyes other than malice, insincerity, and deviousness. I couldn't find anything, and that terrified me more than anything else in the world ever had.

It was almost like he didn't even have a soul.

"Felix!" Peter called out, nearly busting my eardrum seeing as I was still sitting just right in front of him.

I shut my eyes tightly to try and ignore the pain, thus losing the stare down contest. Damn it.

When I opened my eyes again, standing next to Pan was Scar-Faced, whom I could only assume was Felix. "Take her to her bed. She's been misbehaving more than I find tolerable tonight, so she will not be allowed to join in on all of the fun I have in store for tonight," he spoke to Scar-Faced, but he continued stare right into my eyes almost as if he were lecturing me.

Jerk.

Scar-Faced (Felix) made to pick me up again, but I pushed myself away from him, glaring down at my bonds. "Yeah, not until I'm free of these things."

"How else are we to keep you from running away?" Felix found it to be his turn to tease me.

"Firstly, I'm too damn tired. Secondly, you'll just kill me anyways. And thirdly, that takes unnecessary effort. Peter and his unhealthy obsession with keeping everything his wants will make sure of that," I rolled my eyes and sent another glare toward the totally not a carrot-cutie head Disney character Pan.

He was still staring intently at me, seeming amused by my description of my reasoning for not running. With a slight movement of his hands, the bonds that kept me tied up were lifted and I immediately went to rub my lift wrist, which was sore from all of that trying to escape him earlier going on. Peter seemed to notice this and wiggled his eyebrows at me, almost as if that were his way of saying 'that's what you get'.

_My wrists won't affect how hard I slap you, jerkface._

"Will you put up a fight now, Puck?" Felix taunted me, staring down at me with his head inclined in mock innocence.

I pressed my lips together in a thin line, hating my name more and more as they said it. There was no way I would ever get used to even _like_ that name, much less come to terms that this was, supposedly, my 'new life'. I suppose I died or something and ended up in hell, because that's all this could be.

I didn't fight Felix as he lifted me up to my feet and proceeded to drag me away from the rest of the Lost Ones, but as Peter went to touch my arm I lifted it up and raised my middle finger at him, which only made more laughs erupt.

They were going to just _love_ me on my period if they adored me now.

"You'll come to terms with your new life soon, Puck," Felix told me as he led me to a makeshift bed that was far enough away from the rest to keep me from watching and seeing what the hype of the night was all about, but close enough so that I had no chance of escaping. And from the looks of it, Felix wasn't going to be joining on the night's festivities either, he was going to be keeping watch over me. A part of me would have felt bad for him if he weren't such a dick like the rest of the boys here.

He let go of my wrist and pushed me toward my makeshift, causing me to lose all balance completely and make me land right on my place with a light 'oof!'. If he were amused by this, he didn't show it as he sat down on a rock nearby and pulled out a knife and picked up a rock from the ground, screeching the knife across the stone so as to sharpen it. My ears were sensitive to the noise it made and I winced, lifting myself off the ground.

"Seriously?" I asked him, giving him a 'you really went there' look.

He feigned innocence. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I'm sent to bed, time-out, _whatever_ the hell this is, and you sit there making sure I can't sleep by sharpening your toy knife?"

He chuckled, but it slightly resembled Pan's humorlessly one from earlier. "I promise you, this is no toy knife. And I'm sure you can sleep, despite your discomfort."

_Don't punch him. Don't punch him. Don't punch him._

"What is with all of your sass?" I demanded.

"You ask too many questions," he remarked with disdain. "This is why we've never kept girls before."

That made me freeze in realization. "You mean, I'm the only one to stay?"

"Again with the questions," he sounded sick to his stomach just by hearing my voice which would have been mildly offensive had I actually gave two fucks about his opinion.

"If I'm the only one to stay, then what about Wendy Darling?"

This seemed to spark his memory. "I believe she was that terribly annoying girl that came with the Shadow here when the Shadow went for her brothers."

"Shadow?" My eyebrow raised in interest.

"I promise you, Girlie, that no matter how interesting Peter finds you, he will be perfectly fine with me stabbing you in the throat to silence you."

The stupid part of me wondered out loud, "Would you?"

When he met my curious gaze, that was all the answer I needed.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Goodnight, Scar-Faced."

"Goodnight, Puck," was his vengeful reply that made me tense up immediately. "I sure do hope you are ready for tomorrow's festivities."

I sat down on the bed, if you could even call it that, and looked to him, my lips daring to ask another question.

He was quicker to reply than my question could leave my mouth, "He will begin your training tomorrow, probably either beginning with target practice or sword fighting."

"And then tomorrow night will be like tonight?" I asked, more like grumbled.

He chuckled. "I doubt he will put you in time out again when tomorrow is meant to celebrate you joining us."

"But I haven't," I argued. "Nor will I ever."

He raised a careless eyebrow—that was something all of these boys here had in common, they were all careless in everything they did. "You think you're the first with a strong head on their shoulders? Who didn't want to be here? Who didn't want to be a Lost One?"

Of course I did.

"Of course you're not," he denied my thoughts. "None of us wanted this life. Not until we began to relish in it. One day, you'll be the exact same as us."

"Hopefully not with some ugly ass scar, and let's face it, I have much better hair than you."

He seemed unfazed by my poor attempt at a low blow his way. "You will also lose all care in appearances soon enough."

"I see that happened with you real fast."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Have you been reduced to such meager insults that don't even begin to scratch the surface of one's character."

"I'll take what I can get," I met his gaze this time. "Besides, your appearance in particular only reflects on how ugly you are inside."

He stood up and for a moment I thought he was going to slice my neck open, but instead he merely towered over me and squatted to be face-to-face with me much like how Pan had been earlier. Leaning in quite close, giving Peter a run for his money on personal space invasion, and whispered dangerously into my ear, "You have no idea, Girlie."

Pulling away to look me in the eyes once again, his smirk played across his lips as he stood back up and walked back over to his, I suppose quite comfortable, seat on the rock he had been previously on before I taunted him into pulling a Pan move. I sat there, contemplating if I should say anything else.

Before I could even think up a question to ask or something smart to say, Scar-Faced simply added as if it had been some afterthought, "Just remember before you open that lovely mouth of yours again that my offer to stab you in the throat still stands."

And they expected this guy to simply watch me all night and not kill me. So much for getting some sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: I can not thank you all enough for how much feedback I got for my first chapter! I seriously almost started crying when I saw that I had reached thirty reviews for one chapter alone and my best friend had to keep me from having a major heart attack! Because I'm so happy, I even updated a day earlier than I expected to! Thank you so much for your support from my first chapter and please continue on giving me such amazing support for chapters to come! It really does brighten up my day to know that people actually like what I write! Again, thank you, thank you, thank you, _thank you so much_!**

**Chapter Two**

"_Believe me when I say, Puck, you will never leave unless I allow it."_

I've gotta say—I'll happily pick an alarm clock over being splashed in the face by a bucket of water any day.

_Wait. . . ._

I shot up from my makeshift bed, now in full-on panic mode as I looked around at my surroundings until my eyes landed on the figure who had thrown the bucket of water on me—Scar-Faced. The memories of the previous night began to flood back into my mind as a groan slipped out of my mouth. However, as soon as I let my shoulders droop in disappointment, I came to the sudden, horrid realization that it was _freezing_!

My arms flung to hug myself. "What the hell, Prick!"

He simply shrugged, not seeming to really care that I could easily get a cold this way. "Saying your name wasn't waking you up, neither was poking you with a knife."

My blood ran cold at the thought of him having that knife he had been sharpening anywhere near me. "Well, try calling me by my real name and not Puck, and maybe I'd actually answer to you!" Then, as an afterthought, "And keep your stupid knife away from me!"

Scar-Faced chuckled darkly before reaching down and grabbing me by the wrist, forcing me onto my feet as he began dragging a protesting me away behind him. We arrived where the party had taken place last night, the remains from what looked to be a pretty wild night still scattered around everywhere. Despite their late night, the boys were up and ready for the new day while I was over here, having Scar-Faced practically escorting me while I tried to yawn away the drowsiness.

"Boys!" Peter's obnoxiously loud voice rang out from a tree nearby. An odd sense of déjà vu hit me when I saw him sitting on the tree branch. "We're starting the day with some fun sword practice!"

All of the boys, including Scar-Faced behind me, cheered at this. I froze in my spot, resisting the urge to throw up the meal I never had. I _seriously_ needed to escape . . . like, today.

Peter appeared in front of me, taking me out of my thoughts as he leaned in close, that smirk still evident on his face. "Aren't you excited for your first sword lesson today, Puck?"

I didn't grace him with an answer, all I did was stare at him with hard, cold eyes that could never match his emotionless ones, but it got the point across. He didn't seem notice to my reluctance, however, and threw an arm around my shoulder in a way that would've been deemed affectionate if it weren't coming from an asshole psychopath.

"Now, everyone, play nice with Puck! She seems nervous!" Smirking down at me, he added, "We'll have to beat it into her."

_Like hell I'll let you beat anything into me._

I shrugged his arm off, putting a safe distance between the two of us. This didn't seem to bother him, though, as he only let out a cackling laugh before leading the way to where our "sword practice" would take place for the day. I was practically being dragged around by Scar-Faced, who I had assumed was probably the only one Peter trusted me with. The other boys seemed pretty lanky, but then again, so had Peter when I first saw him. And now look at me, all dangerous and whatnot!

"How does sword practice usually go, Scar-Faced?" I asked the boy who still had me by the wrist, dragging me around like a doll. It wouldn't have looked so pathetic if only I weren't such a stubborn ass who refused to go anywhere with them.

"How else would you imagine it?" he teased me, earning yet another glare from my end. "We're going to teach you how to hold you own against someone else in a fight. Usually, all you would need is your imagination; however, Peter sees that you have very little of said imagination."

I paused—or, at least _tried _to pause; he kept dragging me—and frowned. "What does imagination have to do with anything?"

Scar-Faced chuckled at what he considered to be my stupidity. "Here in Neverland? Everything."

I choked at the word 'Neverland'. In all of my confusion and panic attacks since I got here, I had forgotten one little tiny detail: I was somehow in _Neverland_. "How does one get to Neverland?" I choked out, my mind refusing to believe what was in front of my eyes.

"The Shadow brings you here," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing for a shadow to do all of this dirty work. "It's Peter's shadow, in case you haven't realized that much yet."

I felt like I was going to be sick. "What? How does one lose a shadow? It's kinda . . . well . . . _supposed_ to stay there."

Scar-Faced looked as though he wanted to rip my vocal cords out from all of these questions he must've found unnecessary, but he continued, "Very few can. If you, for instance, were to lose your shadow, you'd die."

Yep—my lunch from yesterday was finding its way back up my throat. I looked away from Scar-Faced and toward the front of the group where I found something that nearly gave me a heart-attack: Peter was staring at me, with that signature smirk he wore when he knew something that he figured that I didn't want him to know. He had heard that conversation.

"A-And will he use that on me?" Damn my shaky voice!

"Not if I kill you first," Scar-Faced grumbled half-heartedly.

Before I was able to make some sort of retort his way, Peter shouted, "This will do! Boys, prepare for a game of hide-and-seek!" The boys, including Scar-Faced, scattered to their positions where they were to hide. They had all disappeared so quickly that I couldn't have kept up with them even if I wanted to.

In an instant, Peter was right in front of me again and I choked on one of my gasps. "Hide and seek? I thought we were practicing swordplay today!" Somehow, I felt much safer knowing we'd be practicing swords than them hiding where I couldn't find them.

Peter went to rub my hair in a semi-affectionate way, but I smacked his hand away out of instinct. He seemed pissed off by this, but said nothing. "No better way to learn swordplay than on the battlefield, Puck."

"_Stop_ calling me that," I hissed.

He ignored me and handed me a tree branch, which I ignored so it was soon forgotten on the ground. "You will come with me. I don't want you getting killed on your first day here," he winked.

"Then who's seeking?" I asked, befuddled.

His devious grin widened. "That's the fun, Puck. We all seek for each other and the last one standing wins."

_Last one standing . . . ?_

Realizing we all had weapons in our hands, minus me who rejected my offered branch, my knees buckled and my heart suddenly felt very weak. "We're going to have to fight each other," I squeaked out, suddenly not feeling very tough.

"Not you and me," he corrected me, leaning in close to my face like he seemed to enjoy doing. "Like I said, I won't let one of my boys kill you on your first day. That's not exactly fair play."

"Wait," I shook my head, "will they kill each other?"

"Who knows?" he shrugged, making me nearly hurl onto the ground he stood. Not seeming to notice my massive nausea, he took hold of my shoulder and dragged me with him into the forest and out of the clearing. "We best start hiding if you want a chance at survival!"

_And here I thought you said you wouldn't let me die. Ass._

Not wanting to get gutted by an arrow because of my loud mouth, I allowed Peter to drag me to a hiding spot in a built-in hole in a tree, big enough for only the two of us to fit in it with our backs to the walls. The lack of space was highly uncomfortable, especially given that it was shared with dickface right across from me.

Peter seemed to be full-on head in the game mood at the time so I chose not to break his concentration. The less we talked, the better, and that was more time for me to think over possibilities of escaping this 'Neverland' I was trapped in until further notice.

"You seem distracted," Peter mused, catching me out of my thoughts to find him staring at me with a wicked grin. "That will get you killed here in Neverland."

Rolling my eyes and choosing not to respond to that, I looked out at the opening in the tree, wondering how long it would take someone to find us here.

Peter didn't seem to like me ignoring him. "Penny for your thoughts? At least, I believe that's how the phrase goes."

My lips pursed together in slightly annoyance. "How often do people die playing this game of hide-and-seek?" Best not to tell him what was _really_ on my mind. After all, I still had no idea of how to hold my own if he were to decide to kill me.

He chuckled, obviously not buying my shit-ass question. "Do you think I'm so ignorant to not know when escape is on a person's mind?" he asked me, closing the distance between us so that I was now up against the wall, fighting to put some space between us. "Believe me when I say, Puck, you will _never_ leave unless I allow it."

Taking in a deep inhale, I looked him dead in the eye with defiance that I most definitely did not feel as I wondered if I were about to get jabbed with an arrow and said, "There's a first for everything."

He shook his head. "Not this. No one, and I do mean, _no one_ leaves without my permission."

"As you keep feeling the need to remind me," I muttered, uninterested in what he had to say now. Was his vocabulary limited to pretty much that single sentence and its variations?

Peter continued to stare at me, this time more quizzical, but I tried to ignore it. It got really hard to do so, though, when he took hold of my chin (surprisingly not leaving any bruises this time!) and made me lean in closer to him, which instantly got a resistant reaction out of me. I pushed and shoved him but he held on tightly to me, rolling his eyes impatiently, "Resistance isn't very becoming of a lady."

I narrowed my eyes at him, still trying pushing him away from me. "And you're all about me becoming a lady, right?"

He chuckled, rubbing his free thumb against one of my eyes. "You look as though you have a black eye, but it smudges."

_Shit. I forgot to clean my makeup off before going to bed. Shit. Shit. Shit. Now it'll never come off._

"Well?"

Shit, was he really expecting an answer from me?! "Um, it's called makeup." There was a short silence. "Girls . . . sometimes guys, even, wear it . . . to enhance features . . . and I forgot to wash it off before I fell asleep."

Peter definitely wanted to say something to that, but his quick reflexes kicked in as he pulled away from me to dodge and arrow that barely scraped the tip of my nose. I have to admit, it burned like hell once I registered just what had happened, but it was my reflexes' turn to kick in as I sprang away from the wall I was leaning against and forced myself behind the infamous Peter Pan. This was supposed to be Hide-and-Seek Sword Practice Version and yet here I was, completely unarmed. What the hell was Wonder Boy over here thinking?! That I would use my nonexistent imagination Scar-Faced had pointed out earlier and summon up some sword?!

"Ah, looks like we've been found," Peter grinned wickedly at me, pulling out his sword and handing it to me. When I gave him the look of 'what the fuck is this supposed to do?' he laughed and came behind me, pretty much using me as a human meat shield. "Here, best to learn on the field of battle than anywhere else!"

"You _asshole_!" And you know what? I could get an arrow shot at me right in the heart right now with those as my last words and I'd still die not giving any shits whatsoever!

As if my wishes were just about to come true, I heard the familiar sound of an arrow being shot. Just before it could hit me, though, my arms were taken hold of and put in a stance that placed the sword in front of me, blocking me from the arrow. A gasp of disbelief escaped me as I felt Peter's breath on my ear as he said, "I told you, I'm not letting you die on your first day."

Oh, how noble of you. I admire the way you obviously put others before yourself (quite literally, even though I practically did the same exact thing but that's besides the point) and oh so gracefully save the obvious damsel in distress. Oh, and might I add how I just love how controlling you are and how you'll keep people against their will and then force them to learn to kill? Really, I'm a huge fan.

I let out a heavy sigh instead of saying any of those things. It was difficult to be my usual bitchy self when I was, quite frankly, jumping on the thin line between life and death at the moment. "Now what, Pan?" I all but hissed at him.

I felt his wicked smirk against my ear, my jaw tightening at the contact in revulsion. "I thought you'd never ask. Follow me."

He let go of my arms and his contact against my ear vanished, much to my relief as he walked out of the cave, me treading behind him carefully, hesitantly. We were out in the open now and as much as I hated it, he was my best chance at survival so I kept close to him, occasionally bumping into his back when he would randomly stop. A part of me figured that he only did it to scare me or just to have me run into his back, but either way, he was pissing off. If he weren't promising me my life, I would have jabbed him by now.

"Duck," he suddenly said, doing so himself. I squeaked and did so myself, only just hearing the arrow wheeze by where my head was a moment ago. A curse word escaped my lips and Peter smirked at me. "That was close," he quipped.

My relief was all gone with that statement as I hopped back up to my feet with a huff, quickly surveying the area just in case and looked back to him, who was still sitting on the ground, staring at me. "When does the game end?"

His wild smirk sent shivers down my spine and his hand was suddenly on my wrist, pulling me down so that I had to land on my knees to prevent myself from collapsing on him. Still, my knees landed right on his lap just short of his manhood. So close, yet so far.

Face inches from mine, he whispered, "It's over when I say it's over."

My lips pursed at this. "Your stories change," I noticed. He didn't say anything, which I took as my chance to elaborate. "Earlier you told me that the game is over when there is one last person standing. Now you're saying it's over when you say it is." I shook my head, disbelieving just what I was hearing come out of my own mouth. "And I bet that if I keep asking your questions, I'll find more answers like the one you just gave me. You're such a kid."

His breath mixed with mine and for a moment I was terrified of what he might say or do, knowing that he would do anything to send me into a panic attack. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if he threw me in front of an arrow right then and there! "That's part of the fun." Then, he leaned up to my ear and whispered a name it felt like forever since I last heard it.

My eyes widened and my heart stopped, my blood running cold. For a moment, I swear I wasn't breathing and he pulled away, still grinning at me. "I never told you . . ."

"I know much more than you think, Puck," he laughed darkly. I tried to squirm out of his grasp but he held me in place, forcing me to listen to him. "You get your blond hair from your father, your facials from your mother. Not your lips, though," he mused, rubbing his index finger across my bottom lip. I went to bite it, but he snatched it away just in time, tapping my nose teasingly. "Your lips come from your father's side, your grandmother. She died earlier this year, I believe. That broke your little heart, didn't it?" My breath hitched as I continued to try and fight against him, but he use both hands on my shoulders to hold me in place. "You don't know anything about me, my dear Puck," I flinched at the name, as per usual, "but I know everything there is to know about you. I do a bit of research on those who capture my attention."

I stared at him disbelievingly, not knowing what to say. "You . . . you planned on me coming here?"

He nodded, removing one hand from my shoulder and tracing his finger across my chin. "Nothing in Neverland happens without it being in my plan." He snickered at what I suppose was my priceless reaction to this. "Come out, boys! Game's over!"

On cue, all of the teenagers crawled out from their hiding spots and my cheeks heated up in anger. They had plotted against me. There was no game in the first place. Never once had I seen them with or actually holding swords! Peter wanted to toy with me, and he went to such lengths to do so. And here I was, taking the bait as if I were some young, naïve child. My breathing remained ragged as one of the Lost Ones gripped me by the shoulder and forced me back up to my feet, Peter helping himself up oh so gracefully, his leadership even showing itself in the way he stood up. Naturally, this pissed me off to no end.

"Come, Puck," he smirked at me. "You did a good job today. Now, let's go practice some actual target practice."

I felt sick to my stomach, but couldn't find the words to yell at him that he was a sick fuck. In fact, I couldn't say anything! I just was able to snatch my arms away from who held me in place, hold my head high, and allowed Peter to lead the way. Scar-Faced was, naturally, the one to follow him first and I stomped head first before any other boy followed. While following Pan was the last thing I ever wanted to do, and while I was too sick to my stomach to even speak, I didn't want to come off as weak and vulnerable. They didn't deserve to know that they had tricked me twice now. I didn't want them to. I wanted them to know that the game had only just begun.

When we reached the open field where Pan decided to hold target practice for the day, Pan immediately stopped and waited for me to catch up, casually swinging his arm around me. "You ready, Puck, for your official training?"

I shrugged him off. "Whatever, just explain the rules to me."

Peter smirked at me, looking up to the right where an apple tree was, reaching up and picking one off and handing it to me. Had I known any better, I would've thought it was a peace offering. "Here, you need to shoot the apple."

I eyed it carefully, hesitantly taking it from him. "What's the catch?" I asked, my eyes moving to him.

He motioned to the Lost Ones. "You get to choose whose head it is on when you shoot at it with dreamshade laced into the tip of the arrow."

I nodded, faking calmness. "Fine. I can choose anybody?" I took his silence as a confirmation and in a moment of bold rashness, I handed him the apple with a sly smirk on my face. "Then, why not you?" I inclined my head to the side innocently.

Peter let out a laugh. For a moment, it actually sounded . . . genuine. "As you wish, Puck." He placed the apple on his head. "Felix will give you the bow and arrow."

I couldn't believe this was working! Almost as if in a trance, I walked over to Scar-Faced and held my hand out to receive the death weapon, trembling slightly as I felt it in my hands, my eyes locking with his as my fingers accidentally touched his. "Now how do I do this?" I breathed out, unsure.

Scar-Faced smirked, coming up behind me much like how Peter had when it was just us two in the cave. I caught my breath as he took my arms and placed them on the bow, my left holding the center of the bow, where he directed me to hold my index finger out to point where I wanted my arrow to go, as my right arm bent back with my fingers holding the end of the arrow I was preparing to shoot. He didn't have to say anything in his teachings to me, yet here I was already about to shoot my first arrow. Needless to say, I was a panic attack about to happen.

"If you panic, you'll never hit your target," I heard him whisper in my ear, his breath just ghosting my ear. Cue the creepy chills that all of these boys gave me. Just their breath terrified me, knowing that those breaths belonged to sick bastards. "The apple, that is," I heard him chuckle in my ear. My breath hitched. Sadly, he noticed. "Do I frighten you?"

I shook my head, letting out a sigh as I looked at him hopelessly. "No, I'm just getting really tired of you boys getting so close to me. I don't think you realize that not taking a shower in a couple thousand years really takes its toll on you."

"Still demeaning a person for appearances," he mused, looking me in the eye.

"I told you, I'll take what I can get to try and make you feel as shitty as I do right now," I threw back at him. "Even if it doesn't work, at least you get the point."

"That you refuse to go down without a fight," he said thoughtfully. "Well, you're aimed, now shoot."

I tore my eyes from him, waiting for him to back away. Taking in a deep breath, I quickly changed my aim for lower than the apple and shot the arrow directly at Pan's chest. I closed my eyes, anticipation getting the best of me as I waited for the club to the head Scar-Faced was surely going to give me for killing their leader, but all that came were snickers. Opening my eyes, I realized I had failed. Peter had caught the arrow just before it reached his chest and he, too, was smirking at me.

"Nice shot," he said, almost teasingly, "Puck."

_Shit, now Scar-Faced is definitely going to kill me . . . if I don't do it myself out of sheer frustration. Damn it!_

Peter took the apple off of his head, which surprisingly stayed there even with the sudden movement he made to catch the arrow, and handed it to me. I eyed it warily, not sure of what I was to do now. "What, do I choose another person to take a shot at?" I grumbled, casting my gaze toward the ground.

"Don't pout, Puck," Peter grinned at me, taking my hand from my side and placing the apple in my palm. "It's to snack on while the rest of us show you how it's done. You obviously are going to need better aim if you ever want to hit a target as small as an apple." I looked up in shock, expecting to see his innocent, naïve face. I saw his eyes, though, and knew that no matter what expression he had at the moment, I'd know the truth and so would he—I hadn't missed my target. My target had caught it before the arrow could truly hit it. You wanna know how that felt? It _sucked_.

I snatched the apple away and made my way over to a log, plopping myself down on it as the boys seemed to have forgotten the world around them once more and commenced target practice. I paid attention for a little over five minutes before getting bored. Hiding behind the log I had been previously sitting on and tossing the untouched apple away, I tried to catch a few more hours on much needed sleep. When stressed, I tend to oversleep and, well, I was stressed.

It was a short-lived victory of my own, however (yes, managing to catch a few hours of rest was plenty enough victory for me), because I was soon awoken with Scar-Faced right in my . . . well . . . face. A small squeak and a few huffs mixed with some arguments later, here I was being practically dragged back to camp by said Scar-Faced with a little bit of my dignity left, but not enough to deal with another whose last name's first letter was the same as their first name. Luckily, however, Peter had split target practice shortly after noticing I had fallen asleep because he had other "affairs" to attend to, whatever those were.

Instead of arguing with some crazed adolescent, here I was sitting on yet another log, except this time it was at their camp and it was now night time. A fire was made and all of the boys were playing around, dancing around the fire. They sounded like they were having a good time. They were laughing, giggling (yes, manly, I know), and pretty much ignoring my brooding self, which made me slightly self-conscious. Was I honestly the only one here who had no desire whatsoever to be here right now? They actually _liked_ being isolated here?!

"You're the new girl," a voice noted from beside me. I jumped at the sound of it, looking to see that it was only one of the Lost Ones (who else would I have expected?). He had freckles on his face, dark brown hair, and, like the rest of them, dirty, messy clothes.

I eyed him carefully, not wanting to really talk to any of the Lost Ones. "You say that like there are any other boob species in the area. If there are, please do elaborate. Maybe they have some makeup remover so I can remove this crap off my face and look less like a zombie!"

He continued to analyze me, obviously not impressed by my oh-so witty banter. "What does Peter even see in you? You're no better than a baby!"

"Whoa, dude," I held my hands up in defense. "No need to get all jealous! I don't even want to be here!"

"Why would I be jealous of _you_?" he snapped at me. "We, Lost Ones, do not need a girl like you here!"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, I get it, you get that I have boobs and you have . . . other . . . manly parts that I will not name because I like to think that you all are not of any gender because it helps me think that I won't be molested in my sleep . . . and . . . how long has it been since you've actually had a girl here in Neverland?"

The boy eyed me awkwardly, almost as if he didn't know what to say about me rambling away like a crazy chick, which I wasn't. That title was exclusively for the Lost Ones. Just as I was about to open my mouth and say something else just as equally stupid as I had just now, he shook his head at me and said, "It's true that girls really do never shut up."

He almost got punched in the face for that when I felt a hand on my shoulder, firm but with a hint of fake comfort. That could only mean one person. "Devin, why aren't you having fun with the other boys? You too, Puck. You two are putting quite the damper on my mood by just sitting here by your lonesome selves. One might think that you two were discussing . . . intimate matters with one another." Fucking Peter Pan. Why the hell did I ever picture him as my first boyfriend when I was five? Was I really that stupid as hell as a child? Rule number one when I get back to the real world and possibly have a heathen child: never let them watch any Peter Pan movie ever made, nor play. Hell, they weren't even allowed to read the books!

The boy instantly jumped to his feet and rushed over to the party, murmuring something around the lines of 'yes, Peter' to the infamous elf boy who stood beside me, much to my irritation. I didn't move from my spot, much to _his_ irritation. For a moment, I was proud of myself for irritating him, but then he felt the need to plop his nonexistent ass right next to me on the log. My frown returned to my face and dragged the rest of my facials with it. "What _now_?"

"Who are you trying to impress by defying every word I say?" he asked, a hint of displeasure in his tone. Good, it needed to stay there.

"No one," I told him. "I don't need to impress anyone. My natural witty charm is wonderful enough to enchant others along with my blinding optimism." Please note that my tone was drowning in sarcasm as I said this to him.

He laughed humorlessly. "You're going to be difficult to keep around."

"Then why not just let me go, or kill me if your sadistic needs must be met?" I grumbled out, glaring hard at the ground beneath us. I know the ground didn't exactly do anything to me, but I wanted to glare at something and if it took imagining Pan's face in the ground so that I could glare and stomp on it all I wanted, then so be it.

"I said you'd be difficult, not impossible," he told me, as if that were supposed to make me feel any better. Looking at me, but me not looking back as I continued to glare at the ground, he smiled. It wasn't a prince charming smile nor was it kind, it still held the monstrous intent behind it, but it was a smile. Only a true psychopath could make such an innocent gesture look so menacing. "I'm not letting you go so easily."

"Save your breath, I get it. You're not letting me leave Neverland because you've already got your mind set on keeping me here against my will because you're a sadistic ass who is a control freak. I _totally_ get it," I said as I rolled my eyes. "Now please, leave me alone."

He leaned in, his breath now hitting my ear and making my skin tense up. "Ah, you think you're so clever. But, no, I'm afraid I will not leave you alone." I could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he said this.

I glared at him. "Will you ever leave me alone, Pan?"

His smirk widened, having not backed off at all even though I turned my head to him so we were, quite literally, butting heads now. "Never."

"Ugh!" I turned my head back away, "You're such an asshole! Why am I even here in the first place?" I threw my hands up in the air, ready to blow something up right about then.

Peter let out his dark, evil mastermind chuckle that made me want to vomit. "Get up and enjoy the party. I threw it for you."

"And you didn't answer my question," I noted dully. "I'll pass on the party. Dancing around a fire like I'm sacrificing a virgin for a pagan god isn't exactly my idea of fun."

Peter shook his head, seeming quite amused by our oh-so witty banter. This boy had some serious, loony bin problems. Trust me, I would know that much. "You like to over analyze people and objects; events, too, it would seem. What here are you over analyzing this time?" I was about to smack that smirk off his face. "Could it be, perhaps, my intentions?"

"Don't say it like that, you sound like a boy who is trying to convince a girl that it's not only about sex. And no, I'm not over-analyzing anything here. I already know that this is a ploy to make me feel comfortable with you," cue the quotation marks here: "Lost Ones," quotation marks gone, "but I will never feel anything besides hatred for you all."

His look hardened. "Hatred? After all that we've done for you?"

"You kidnapped me!" I snapped at him, my voice now rising. "You took me away from home and are forcing me to stay _here_ when I'm needed elsewhere!" He looked about ready to say something but I figured that it was about time that I was the one who should cut in. Leaning in closer as if anyone else could possibly hear us with all of their whooping and yelling, I whispered, almost pleadingly, "Pan, you said you know everything about me, right?" I let out a heavy, shaky sigh. "You know he needs me and I can't do that when I'm here. Even if you're a sadistic asshole, you can't possibly be that evil, right?"

He and I shared yet another stare down and I felt the competition again, whoever held out longest won whatever silent battle we were having. Peter nearly broke the distance between us by leaning in closer, but he barely grazed my cheek as he went for my ear, whispering, "What did I just say? I will _never_ let you leave, _Puck_."

I've had my fair amount of possible people in my life that I've disliked. There were a couple of bullies I had in kindergarten who made fun of my baby fat, some in middle school who teased me for, at the time, abiding by the rules and not letting a toe fall out of step. There have been kids that I've met in both middle school and high school that I've never gotten along with because their goody-two-shoes attitude irritated me to no end and there were a few of those kids who thought they were better than anyone else that I've always really wanted to punch in the face, but none of that compared to how I felt in that moment. I hadn't known what I had been expecting from Peter at the time, given that he was a psychopathic control freak who had some obvious issues that I couldn't tell if were abandonment or just mental health problems that made obsession the norm for him, but as my blood both boiled and felt cold at the same time, my complexion lost all its color, and my heart stopped beating for what felt like forever, I realized that no matter how hard I tried to keep myself from feeling something so powerful for someone, I can honestly say that in that moment, I truly hated Peter Pan.

My eyes were glossy but no tears had been forming. I felt numb of all emotions as he pulled away from my ear, inches away from my face once again. He must have seen the look in my eyes, tutting lightly as he raised his hand to push a strand of hair behind my ear in a sick sense of comforting. "You don't think that any of these boys here had lives before Neverland? That they didn't have someone who needed them back in their worlds? You're a little self-centered, don't you think?" His grin widened.

"You're one to talk," I choked out, my lips going back to tightly forming a thin line. My voice was wavering, making it seem like I was going to cry, but I felt too numb to even make the effort to cry.

He chuckled. "They saved themselves by staying here, by never growing up. Yet, here you are, desperate to do so. He doesn't need you and deep down inside, you know this, but your self-righteousness won't allow it. You feel as though he must need you there with him, when in fact, you're not needed at all." Ouch. That hurt. "But, we need you here, Puck," he added in a whisper, playing with a strand of my hair with his finger behind my head. "And that is why I will never let you leave."

"And what is it that you need me for?" I challenged. "I'm not going to be some Mother for you all if your inner Disney is starting to shine through," I added with a mutter, shuddering at the idea of having to take care of all these brats. That Devin boy had been enough to show what everyone was like.

Peter seemed slightly confused by my Disney reference. "Don't hold yourself up to that high of a regard. If yesterday and today have taught me anything, it's that you're the last female in the world to qualify for a role as a mother."

Ouch. Double hit in less than two minutes! "Oh gee, thanks," I growled. "Then what do you need me for, Pan? Need me to just stand here and look pretty as your boys terrorize everything in Neverland?"

"Who said anything about pretty, Puck?" he snickered.

I paused. Was Peter Pan . . . _evil_, _sadistic_, _psychotic_ Peter Pan . . . was this motherfucker trying to make a _joke_?!

"Save the jokes for someone with a sense of humor," I snapped at him, resisting the urge to slap him and slam his face into the mud, knowing very well that he wouldn't be kind enough to kill me but would rather just torture me some more. "You're a sick fuck."

"And yet here you are, still conversing with me," he said, a victorious grin on his face.

I paused again, not knowing where he was going with this.

"The truth is, my dear Puck," he started, placing a hand on my wrist, "you may think you hate me now,"—was he a mind-reader?—"but you wouldn't be here still, entertaining me with our witty banter if you had. When you truly hate someone, simply being around them is enough to make your rage consume you, send you whirling out of control with brash decisions that could lead to your ultimate demise. Yet, here you are, not making any of those decisions. You and I both know that had you hated me, you wouldn't be able to control it." I had to refrain from biting my bottom lip as he spoke. "And that is why I will keep you here. You do not know what you want."

I exhaled a sigh that I didn't know I had been holding in as he spoke. "I want to be with him, right now," I told him.

"And that makes you just as lost as any of the other boys here," he said.

"Then what are you, Pan?" I said him, challengingly. "Are you lost?"

"No," he shook his head, seeming amused. "I know where I am, and where I am going."

"And where might that be?" I scooted closer to him, hoping to give him some sort of intimidation like how he always did with me.

He raised his eyebrows suggestively, but not in the flirting way as most boys usually did. His was suggesting determination, and something I didn't know. "Forever."

I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You'll know soon enough," he shrugged it off, pulling out a small wind instrument out of god knows where. "Care to hear a song for your party, Puck?"

"You know my name and yet you insist on calling me by that wretched name," I huffed. "And no, I _really_ don't."

"Don't be . . . what do they call them where you're from?" He mocked a few seconds of deep thought. "Oh, right! A buzzkill?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me, making me feel sick to my stomach as he put the instrument up to his lips and played a tune.

Well, at least, I _thought_ he was. "Need help blowing air through that thing?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

He stopped playing, staring at me in what I could only assume was confusion. "You do not hear it."

"It'd help if you actually play something," I said sarcastically. "Now, I'm bored, so I'm going to bed. Send Scar-Faced to watch me if you want, but I'm too tired to get lost in the woods tonight." With that said and my pride reinstated, I turned on my heel and headed toward where Scar-Faced had showed me my bed the previous night.

_Peter Pan, you can hold me captive all you want, but don't you even think for a second that I'm your little toy to play with._


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: Okay, that last episode gave me a heart attack and I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life. I mean, we _all_ saw it coming, but I always said it jokingly because of how messed up the family tree is already! Anyways, thank you for all of your love and support still and please continue on doing so! Special, heart-felt thanks to LunaBell08 for doing yet another banner for me, and making the perfect banner for this fanfiction! Also, one more thing, I was recently asked if I would stick to canon and the answer is yes, _for the most part_. We have a little while before we need to worry about any of that, though! Please review and let me know what you think! :)**

**Chapter Three**

_Peter seriously thinks that I'd have a thing for one of his Lost Ones? How crazy is—wait, that's actually a good idea_.

Was that puke I was currently choking back? Quite possibly.

I eyed the bowl in my hands, the soup that lay inside making my insides churn just from smelling it cook. "What the _fuck_ is this?" My stomach had stopped growling ages ago when I had woken up to the horrendous smell of one of the boys cooking our . . . breakfast . . . thing. . . .

"Stop complaining and just eat it already," Devin muttered at me, seeming quite done with the bullshit I had been pulling right from the moment I woke up.

"I think it's staring at me." My eye twitched.

"You're such a baby," he rolled his eyes at me.

"Yep, it's definitely staring at me."

"And you honestly believe that you're much more mature than the rest of us?"

"At least I can _cook_!"

"Then start waking up before midday and perhaps you can make a meal you prefer!"

"It's been two days, Freckles! And wake up before midday? Are you kidding me?! With all of this stress you _Lost Ones_ like to surround me with, I need my beauty sleep!"

"You're lazy."

"And you're about to get punched in the face!"

"Stop arguing," one of the other boys groaned loudly and there wasn't a hint of amusement to his voice. "You haven't shut your mouth since you woke up this morning." That last part was definitely directed to me.

"This is me bonding with you all," I said cheekily. "Don't you all want to get to know me and all of my little quirks?"

"I'll pass," Devin muttered under his breath.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who caught what he had said, because Scar-Faced was quick to act by saying, "You eat that, Puck, or you do not eat at all, and we've got a big day ahead of us." I really freaking hated how his voice always remained so calm, collected, and seemed to drone on forever. His voice was almost suffocating.

I didn't grace him with an answer, all I did was glare at him hoping that the crap soup would somehow explode into his face. Sadly, my "imagination" wasn't strong enough to cause such an effect, but in my mind it was a glorious victory on my part. In reality, however, Scar-Faced soon finished his bowl of the crap soup and tossed his bowl toward the center near the fire, standing up and walking away, no doubt to go find out where his boyfriend (I mean Pan) was.

Devin gave me a weird look. "You trying to get yourself killed?"

"That, or annoy you all until you want to send me home," I shrugged nonchalantly. Might as well be honest with them, seeing as my intentions were already clear. "Anyways, why are we even up? The sun isn't even out yet!" To prove my point, a loud yawn left my mouth.

Needless to say, this morning when Scar-Faced was sent to wake me up, I wasn't happy-at all.

Devin stared at me as if I were the dumbest human being alive. The other boys shot me the same look, some seeming to be expecting me to start laughing and telling them that I was only screwing with their heads.

It was getting kinda awkward. "What?"

"She's not joking," a boy whispered incredulously to another, confirming my suspicions.

"About what?" My eye twitched in slight annoyance.

"Peter controls everything here," a boy finally piped in, still giving me a strange look.

I only sent a confused look Devin's way, unsure of what that statement meant. "Huh?"

Devin rolled his eyes and explained ever-so patiently, "Peter controls everything, including the weather, the sky, and all you can think of."

"Oh, so it's not limited to mindless monkeys," I murmured, staring thoughtfully at Devin.

His hand flew to his dagger but he didn't pull it out, simply glaring at me to remind me just who here had a weapon and who didn't. It got the point across, but that didn't mean I wasn't going out without the last word: "Bleh."

The rest of "breakfast" was sat in silence, me still staring glumly into the bowl of crap soup that still sat in my lap. Pan being able to control everything on this island explained why yesterday felt like it had passed by in a blur (it definitely wasn't because it was "fun", these assholes made sure of that). But, that also made everything twice as difficult to plan my escape. The moment they noticed I was gone, all Pan had to do was set the sky dark and make a hurricane start violently following me and then bang, I would somehow wind back up right where he wanted me. That thought alone frustrated me to the point of throwing the crap soup at the fire, bowl and all.

The boys paid me no mind as I stood up to my feet, turning on my heel and walking back to my makeshift bed. Oh, and another problem: I had no freaking clue where any of the boys slept. I didn't know if they slept out in nature like me, in the trees, or if somehow those fuckers managed to go Star Wars and make underground homes. Fuck.

"And where do you think you're going?" I heard the ever-so slow and intense voice of Scar-Faced.

Insert mental (and quite possibly external) groan. "Bed."

He stepped out from behind a tree, making me wonder how I hadn't noticed him when I was heading this way. "I don't believe anyone gave you permission to do so."

"Quite frankly," I started, feeling my jaw clench, "I'm either your age or older, so don't act like I'm somehow beneath you. Secondly-" I wasn't able to finish that second part

"-Actually, I believe I'm centuries older than you."

I ignored him, "-I need more sleep if I'm going to have to spend any more time with you and your gang of angsty boys who feel unloved. Okay?"

He cocked his head to the side, his good slightly falling off of his head. "You've been temperamental these past few days."

My cheeks heated up in frustration. "Don't even start acting like you know me, okay? You don't have a clue of how I act on a normal day because nothing has been normal since I was kidnapped! Oh, and might I remind you? I was _kidnapped_! Being temperamental is kind of in the job description!"

_If only looks could kill. . . ._

A sly smirk made its way onto Scar-Faced's, er, face as he took a few steps closer to me and my pride refused to allow me to take any away from him, although my common sense was screaming about his weapon of choice. "Peter is right; you're going to be a tough one to handle."

"Good," I snapped at him, my eyes narrowing.

Once he was stand merely inches in front of me, he leaned down so that our noses nearly touched, looking me dead in the eye, "That wasn't pleasant news, Puck."

My ears were now hearing up. "Tell me, Felix," I spat his name out, but he took no offense to this, "did you know about me before I came here?"

His smirk widened mischievously, "What might you mean by that?"

My arms crossed tightly over my chest. "You're his second in command and you're trying to play stupid? Tell me, do you know my name?" I nearly closed the distance between our noses as I inched closer to him.

Felix didn't back away, much to my displeasure. "I can honestly tell you that I did not know about you before you came." As an afterthought, his malicious smirk widened, "I suppose you could say that you were a . . . _pleasant_ surprise."

The hair on the back of my neck rose at how close we were, how the way we talked was threatening yet . . . casual. It really freaked me out, to be honest. "You weren't so pleasant, if we're having a moment of honesty," I dead panned.

He chuckled. "I cannot wait to see your fire burn out until all that's left is a pile of ashes."

I didn't know what to say to that, a million possibilities popping up in my head at the statement he made. Before I could make a word Scar-Faced and I were greeted with a third party, "So it seems I have a tendency to catch you in . . . intimate positions with my boys, Puck."

Fuck, the devil himself would just have to show up to ruin my day! Well, more than it already was.

Scar-Faced and I awkwardly pulled away from our nearly physical stare down, looking over to his leader and the original pain in my ass: Pan. Pan stood there leaned against a tree with his arm as his other motioned for Scar-Faced to go over to him. "Felix, might I have a word?"

He movement was obedient, walking over to his leader as soon as his presence was requested. It was a short exchange, but Scar-Faced soon left to go back to the campfire where the rest of the boys were, just leaving Pan and I by our lonesome.

_Shitfucks._

His eyes were instantly on me, flashing in dangerous amusement. "You making a few friends here among my boys?" he asked in pretense innocence that I detected a hint of fury under. Well, that wasn't good.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, eying him. Was he trying to imply something?

In an instant, he was in front of me, earning a squeak from me. "I think you know exactly what I mean," he hissed, his eyes dancing between mine.

_Ohmygod. . . . Is he . . . . Is he really going there?!_

"Look, I don't know what your deal is, but you need to back the fuck off!" I didn't make to push him, knowing very well that getting my hand cut off would make it near impossible to escape. "I'm tired so I'm going to bed, you see, but your lapdog thinks I'm up to no good so he stopped me and we had a stare down, alright?"

Yeah, we practically just had some major eye sex, but no need for you to go and call me a slut!

He didn't say anything, all he did was continue to stare at me like a creep. Well, I suppose that pretty much was him in a nutshell. "Today we're going hunting," he told me out of nowhere.

My face drained of all color. Sure, I mean, I liked eating meat and all, but I didn't want to be the person to actually kill the animal! It was twisted logic but it always worked for me!

Peter chuckled, as if reading my thoughts. "You'll be staying here and when we get back, since you had such a problem with breakfast this morning, you can be the one to cook."

A scowl took place on my face (oh look a rhyme. . . .). "Who ratted me out this time?"

"Your own loud voice, no one need say anything," he teased, making my hands bawl up into fists. "Now, if you wish to rest up, then go right ahead. Just don't do anything stupid."

The entire time he spoke, I couldn't help but stare at his eyebrow and how it danced. It would've been attractive if it weren't at my expense. "Sure, whatever." It was obvious that he meant "no running away".

We were met with a random silence as the two of us just stood there, having a less-intimate version stare down than Scar-Faced and I had. I don't really think either of us understood why the other was still there, seeing as we both just stood there with nothing left to say. This was the part where I should have been going back to bed and where he should have gone back to his Lost Ones to lead them in their hunting for the day, but neither of us did what we were supposed to do. I wanted to say something, that he should leave or whatever, but I felt like if I spoke then I would lose the silent war that was going on, evident in our eyes.

Pan's hand suddenly rose, catching me off guard and causing me to break our eye contact, thus declaring me the loser of our stare down. Before I could try to do a rematch, his hand found a stray piece of hair that had been blown in front of my face and he delicately moved it back where it belonged, frustrating me slightly. Who the hell gave him permission to touch me?!

As his hand was leaving my head I was sure to smack it away, getting my point across. "You have something to say, Pan?"

His lips curled up at this, having gotten serious just moments ago during our stare match. "The smudges are almost gone."

My nose wrinkled at this observation, but I decided to entertain him with a response. "Yeah, it usually does that over the course of a couple of days. Maybe it'll be gone soon. A shower would really help, though." I grumbled that last part, my arms crossed as I looked away from him. "Alas, I don't think I'll be getting my wish granted soon."

Pan shook his head. "You're catching on quite quickly, it would seem."

I sent him a glare. "Why won't you let me go home, Pan? You have no use for me and we both know it! All I do is sit around and complain and, as you like to put it, "get friendly" with the boys," I huffed.

He shrugged. "My reasons for keeping you are not for you to know just yet, Puck." He took my wrist, grazing his thumb over my wrist and making me freeze, a chill going down his spine. "You will find out soon enough and when you do, you won't need him anymore." I broke our eye contact, finding a sudden interest in the ground and trying to listen to something else-anything but him talking. "And when you realize that you do not need him anymore, this," he rubbed his thumb over the scarred flesh, "will no longer occur."

"Yeah," I muttered, "only, maybe, getting sliced open through the chest. That'd be a better scar to carry around." This lunatic needed some serious help.

"You belong here, Puck," Pan insisted, trying to make me look at him. "He only ever hurts you and you're too blind by what you believe to know that you belong here, where you'll never be forced to grow up and the only deaths that occur in your life will be those causes by your hand."

"So, I belong where I can't properly bathe, which is fucking gross, mind you, and where I'll be trained to be a cold blooded killer?" I challenged him, now locking eyes with his once more. Silently, I hoped he could see my fury in my eyes. "I belong in my world, with him, and nothing you will ever say could make me think otherwise. He needs me and you need some major mental therapy."

His eyes were blazing now, obviously pissed that he wasn't manipulating me as easily as he thought he could. "You know nothing, do you?" he growled.

"As long as it's more than you, then that'll be good enough for me," I spat at him.

Suddenly, a hand was caught in my hair, tugging me to the ground violently. I nearly screamed from the sudden pain as Pan, whose hand was in my hair, knelt down in front of me with a taunting grin on his face. He didn't say anything, all he did was yank harder on my hair as our eyes met, and out of nowhere he pushed my head forward into his chest, probably expecting me to cling to him and beg him not to hurt me anymore. Too bad for him that I wasn't giving in that easily.

The pressure on my head was all of a sudden relieved as Pan released my hair, but his hand remained placed on the back of my head, keeping me in our awkward position. I wanted to pull away and scream at him and quite possibly throw him at a tree, but when he firmly took hold of my wrist I came to the quick realization that I would probably have my wrist broken if I tried anything in that nature.

So, I tried a different route: "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Ssh," he told me, but it wasn't in a comforting sort of way, but a warning growl. I went ahead and listened to him, but froze when I heard another growl soon follow along with the noise of the bushes shuffling. It was over as soon as it had begun, however, and Pan pulled away from me, a psychotic look dancing around in his eyes. "Looks like I've found dinner for tonight."

He didn't remove me, however. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure he even forgot that I was there. Resisting the urge to headbutt his chest, I merely wiggled my wrist around in the hopes of capturing his attention. It did and he let go, not seeming to really care about our argument anymore.

We both rose to our feet and he finally looked my way, still grinning wildly. "Remember, you're in charge of our meal when we returned. And nothing stupid while we're gone," he told me and then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

All of this magic was seriously tripping me out. Peter, too. Actually, that was more of a "creeping me out" vibe.

When I reached my bed, I plopped down and crossed my legs, placing my hands on my knees as I stared straight ahead, considering my options as of now. I still heard the boys laughing and howling at the fireplace but I wasn't sure if that was them getting ready or just them still being a bunch of doofuses. Then again, it very well might just be both. I wondered if he would leave someone to keep watch over me, which would have made my escape twice as difficult.

As if on cue, Devin came into my line of vision and, yet again, I internally groaned. So much for escaping. . . .

"Lemme guess, you're in charge of me?" I growled, making my unpleasant mood known.

Devin gave me a sharp, irritated look. "Don't sound so excited to see me."

"I could say the same for you," I muttered, my arms crossing over my chest as he leaned against a tree, instantly pulling out a knife and sharpening it. He reminded me a bit of Scar-Faced, except the latter's was done in a much more threatening manner. Devin just genuinely seemed to be interested in sharpening his weapon. "Pan didn't let you go hunting, then?"

"_No_," he growled, clearly pissed off. "_Someone_ has to watch you, because Peter doesn't trust you to stay put."

"He's smarter than I gave him credit for, then," I sighed, running a hand through my bangs. "But, why _you_?"

He shook his head, not seeming to know the answer to that, either. "He normally would have left Felix behind, but today when he offered to watch you, Peter was quick on denying him."

My lips thinned into a straight line, looking down awkwardly. From the predicament the two of us had been caught in earlier, my only guess was that Peter thought I was making moves on his second in command and he probably thought that Scar-Faced was . . . _enjoying_ my company. I made a face at the thought.

_Peter seriously thinks that I'd have a thing for one of his Lost Ones? How crazy is—wait, that's actually a good idea._

Looking up from my lap and at Devin, who was tuning me out completely, I tried my best to form a plan in my head. All of these boys were, well, only boys . . . with killer instincts, but that's beside the point. The point was that they were boys, and if they were anything like the boys from my home, they had . . . certain emotions that could be toyed with if done right. Hell, these boys haven't even really been around a girl in a long time, have they? Then, it wouldn't matter if I were pretty or ugly, they still would react to certain touches in probably a normal boy way. But, doing so would piss Peter off to the point of drop kicking me off the island . . . or killing me. Meh, oh well, at least in either case scenario, I win.

My mouth felt dry at the thought of having to . . . _flirt_ with all of these boys, though. Needless to say, I'd much rather eat a bowl of that crap soup than have to make all of these boys think that I actually thought they were attractive. Sure, some of them could pass for it, but others were either too young or too . . . _immature_ (oh, the irony!). I blanched at the idea.

"What's wrong with you?" Devin asked, peaking up from his knife to observe me for a moment.

_Shit. I _really_ don't want to do this._

"I'm hungry," I stated awkwardly.

_I have amazing flirting skills._

He rolled his eyes. "You're saying that after throwing your food into the fire earlier?"

"Yes," I decided to go the blunt way. Noticing how I definitely wasn't going to get any food this way, I gulped and decided that it was now or never, so I tried to push down any revulsion that had built up in my chest and got on my hands and knees, crawling my way shyly over to his side, but he ignored me. He froze, however, when I placed a hand on his shoulder.

_He's only a little bit younger than you, get a hold of yourself! Stop being so awkward! Kids his age dream about being hit on by girls your age!_

Restraining from clearing my throat, and quite possibly letting my stomach out on his lap, I leaned in close to his ear and forced myself to say, "_Please_? I'm _hungry_."

He was frozen, so was I. When the hell did I take hitting on younger boy as a means of survival?! If I ever got out of this, I was definitely getting some therapy sessions from a professional!

He cleared his throat and tried to pull away from me but I kept my grip on him, pulling my face away and looking at him with what I considered to be a puppy dog face but probably only made me look constipated. "Please, Devin? I only want a little snack. I'll repay you later." Ohmygod, was I fucking _purring_?! Who the hell am I?!

We just sort of stared at each other more awkwardly than any other eye contact I've ever shared with someone . . . ever. Finally, he shifted in his seating position and rose up to his feet, leaving me on the floor in complete astonishment as he said, "Not a word to Peter or any of the other boys." Were his cheeks red?

_. . . Holy shit! Did that seriously just work?!_

I weakly nodded, helping myself up to my feet and walking close behind him as he led the way to where I would be granted a small snack, my stomach growling in appreciation. When he slowed down, his anxiety attack seeming to have calmed down, I made another move, invading his personal space from behind and moving my lips to his ear, grazing it as I whispered, "Thank you, _Devin_." Purr-demon, back the fuck off from whence you came!

He ended up leading me out of the camp, but we didn't stray too far before stumbling among some berries that were either red or blue, some even black. I figured he didn't take me to whatever food fault they had because if the other boys noticed there were bound to be some questions asked, so I silently thanked him for avoiding that scenario and took his advice when he told me to avoid the blue berries. I grabbed two handfuls of berries and practically shoved them all in my mouth, surprised by the somewhat bitter taste but otherwise thankful for the food that was now in my stomach.

"We need to get back. If they come back and find us both gone, who knows what Peter will do to me . . ." Devin trailed off and he and I both shuddered at the idea of what Pan would possibly do—that kid was a sadistic brat!

We made it back to our original spots, me sitting in my bed and him leaning against a tree, and although there were a few times I could see him glancing at me from the corner of my eye, I remained frozen where I sat. What the hell was I turning into? How far was I really willing to go to get my freedom back? My palms felt sweaty at the idea of actually taking advantage of all of the boys' lack of female attention these past couple of hundred years but I was needed back at home. My heart felt like it was being crushed at the idea of him waking up and, for the first time in weeks, not finding me there with him. I couldn't even give him an explanation.

"You're not about to cry, are you?" Devin suddenly spoke up, pulling me out of my thoughts. He was eying me carefully, as if one wrong word or move and I'd break. "Because, I'm not going to try and make you feel better if you do, and if Peter catches you it's game over for you."

My eyes _did_ feel watery, but I didn't feel any actual tears forming. I shook my head at Devin, smiling. "Nah, I don't cry that easily." Okay, that was a total lie. If I saw a spider or a snake consider me gone and screaming, crying my eyes out and begging for my mommy. "I'm just thinking about someone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Someone you left behind?"

_Ouch_. That thought made the pain in my chest intensify. ". . . Yeah, I guess." My gaze drifted back down to my feet. "He needs me and I'm stuck here." I laughed bitterly at the thought. '_Neverland_' had been a place he dreamed of since god knows how long; he'd love to have been here.

Devin was quiet for a moment, not seeming to know what to say. When he found the words, however, his voice was cut off by the sounds of the other boys laughing and cheering, no doubt at their recent kills. My stomach felt sick again at the thought of having to seduce the others, knowing just how hard it was for me to do so to Devin.

He got up to his feet, walking over to me and offering me a hand, "They're here, get up."

_Aren't you a Prince Charming?_

I ignored his offered hand, helping myself back up to my feet and patting the dirt off of my tights and shorts. "Let's see if I can make it out of this alive," I muttered mostly to myself, but I still earned a sharp look from the ever-so loyal Devin. His loyalty to the brat made me want to bang my head into a tree.

When the two of us reached the campfire, him arriving behind me to assure that I couldn't do an epic back flip and make an exit right before all of their eyes. That really sucked, because if I could even do a back flip, that'd be amazing itself. Sadly, I was pulled out of my back flip daydreams when I noticed that Pan was looking my way and sickish dread I felt quickly returned. He made his way over to Devin and I. In a quick moment of not thinking at all, I looked around for a certain Scar-Faced and once I caught sight of him I faked cheeriness and ran right past Pan and jumped on Scar-Faced, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Yay! You're back!"

_What . . . the . . . fuck . . . is . . . wrong . . . with . . . me?_

All of the other boys seemed to be sharing the same thoughts as me, questionably looking between one another, unsure of what to do. My out of character jump-hug seemed to create quite the nervous stir amongst the Lost Ones and Scar-Faced beneath me was stiff, no doubt controlling himself from killing me with one blow. If it weren't for the fact that Pan had some unknown interest in me, I'm sure he would have beaten my skull in.

"Let go of me," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom as his hands moved to my shoulders, attempting to push me off him.

I held on tighter to him, not wanting to remove my face from his shoulder because I knew exactly what I'd be greeted with—Pan and his ever-so pissed off attitude. Why did I have to be such a fucking idiot all of the time? Why couldn't I have just stuck to Devin who would have put up less of a fight than Scar-Faced?! Why was I even brought to Neverland with no survival skills?!

"_Puck_," I heard Pan's voice stick out from all of the whispers amongst the confused Lost Ones. I froze, not wanting to face the reality of my upcoming death. "Let go of Felix and come here."

_Ah, shit. Now he's treating me like a dog?!_

A magical (I do mean this in the most serious of ways) yanked me off of Scar-Faced and made me fly all the way across the camp only to land right on my butt with my back to Pan. I would've made a comment about how I still had my back to him, but my butt was in too much pain for me to really care at the moment.

It didn't matter, though, because he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up to my feet, nodding once and all of the Lost Ones scattered, leaving only the two of us at the campsite now. I gulped, knowing that this would end badly.

"Maybe I just missed him?" I attempted to explain before he had the chance to accuse me of anything.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Peter hissed into my ear, holding me close from behind. I felt sick to my stomach being this close to him.

"And what am I doing, besides having my personal space invaded?" I hissed back, his grip tightening on me.

He said nothing, only holding me tightly from behind and I could've sworn I heard him inhale my scent, making me shudder in revulsion. He must have noticed this, chuckling into my ear. "You seem nervous, _Puck_," he said my name with a tone that I didn't quite _want_ to understand, but it was enough to make me squirm in his grasp. "Do I make you nervous?"

"No," I said, still doing my best to struggle away from him. "Only sick to my stomach."

He shook his head, "No, I don't believe that."

"Then you're disillusioned, because I can tell you right now that I feel about ready to puke my brains out," I snapped, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp again.

He continued to hold onto me, not seeming to have much of a problem with keeping me steady despite all of my best efforts. "You will stop your plan with my boys, or there will consequences," he threatened in a low voice that even I could barely hear.

"What kind of consequences?" I challenged him. "Killing me? Thanks in advance for that!"

"No," he nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, making me freeze up. What the _fuck_ was going on here?! "You'll make me _jealous_," he corrected me, taking in another inhale of my scent and making my stomach start to bubble up with nausea again.

_What the hell does he think he's getting at with this? Does he seriously think that he's fooling me with the jealous _boyfriend_ act? What a sick fuck!_

"You're making me jealous of personal space right now," I deadpanned, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp still. And, still, he held me tightly to him and continued to practically molest me without the actual molesting, which I was _very_ thankful for.

He didn't pay attention to my sarcastic comment. "So, you'll stop what you're trying to do to my boys?" he asked me, removing his face from my neck, but I could still feel his breath on my ear.

"The only outcome I can think of is you getting so annoyed that you'll get rid of me somehow, and I won't have to be anywhere near you," I told him, adjusting my head so that I was, quite literally, face-to-face with him. "So, I'll go with a 'no' on that."

His face soured. "Why must you be so difficult?"

"Why must you?" I threw back at him, not even batting an eyelash as the poor excuse for a madman (actually, he was doing a very good job at that, but I wanted to make him poor in my mind).

We were dangerously close now, and he was flaunting it by moving his face even closer to mine, our noses nearly touching. It was like with Felix where we were trying to intimidate each other by getting closer but neither one of us wanted to back off even when our faces were too close for comfort. "I know you will succumb one day, and when that day comes, you'll look at these days now and laugh at how miserably stupid you are."

"Wow, am I going to be permanently high then?" I rolled my eyes. "Pan, don't even try to convince me that I will actually be happy with you here one day. I'm not the type to hate something one day and love it the next."

He smirked at me, but said nothing, only continuing our intense stare down. I wanted to blink so badly in that moment, my eyes feeling dry now, but I didn't want to lose. I felt as though if I blinked then he would win control over me and that just simply would not, _could not_, do. It wasn't until he moved a strand of hair behind my ear that I felt suddenly like I didn't have the upper hand anymore. The way he always felt the need to have some sort of contact with me sickened and disturbed me and made me want to vomit.

He moved his hand to my cheek, stroking my cheekbone gently and sending unpleasant shivers down my spine, a wave of nausea suddenly hitting me. "Your eyes have a hint of green to them in this light," he noted, not seeming to really care but still feeling the need to point it out.

I ignored him and asked, "What made you have an interest in me, anyways?"

He looked at me questionably, playing innocent.

An irritated sigh left me. "Yesterday, you were all saying how I interested you and that's why you did . . . _research_," more like stalked me, "on me. Why are you interested in me?" Ew, that wrongly-put sentence put some disturbing images in my head.

He moved his mouth to my ear, breaking our eye contact finally and I took the chance to blink to my heart's desire. "That's a surprise for later."

"I hate surprises," I grumbled.

"Well, I adore them," he argued playfully, much to my annoyance. He pulled away from my ear, his face barely lingering over mine. "Do I interest you, Puck?" he asked, his voice laced with suggestiveness that made the nausea double in my stomach.

I gave in and pulled away from him, my face not shy of the disgust I felt from that sentence. "You're _sick_!"

He didn't let me pull away far from him and soon guided my face back to his, stopping just as our noses bumped together. I shivered at the contact, willing myself not to tightly shut my eyes and try to hide from any possibility of what this fucker could do to me in that moment. "You're only lying to yourself if you don't accept that you're curious."

"Curious about what?" I demanded, trying not to puke at that moment.

His face leaned in closer, his head tilting to the side and I was so sure right then that he was going to try something that would scar me for life. I struggled against him, but he held me tight in his arms and stopped just before our lips touched, much to my relief. "You're going to be curious to give in to your desires."

"I'd rather your Lost Boys to you," I snapped at him, resisting the urge to head butt him. The last thing I needed was an even bigger headache.

_That_ pissed him off. He threw me away from him and I nearly lost my balance, but I managed to catch it again before I fell flat on my butt for the second time that night. When I looked back up at Pan, his eyes were blazing with the amount of fury I usually saved for my period. "You are to stop this game you are playing with them, _Puck_, or you won't like the consequences."

"Bite me!" I threw back at him, feeling the need to clean myself now that I had escaped his grasp.

He glared some more, but all he said before he left was, "Goodnight, _Puck_. I'll see you in the morning, hopefully in better graces."

As he walked away, I shouted back at him, "_Fuck off_!"

He continued to walk away, but turned his head back to flash me a satisfied smirk that only pissed me off more.


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: Hello again and thank you so much for the amount of feedback you all continue to give to me! I'm seriously surprised that anyone even gave this fanfic a second look, to be honest! And I can see that there are quite a few Fairy Luck Shippers (LunaBell08 and I call Felix + Puck Fairy Luck since Puck is named after a fairy and Felix means "lucky") so I decided to entertain you a bit with this chapter. Hehe, thank you for all of the love and support and please continue to do so because, I'll be honest, I love it! :)**

**Chapter Four**

_"Don't let anyone beat you at your own game, Puck."_

Wendy had the patience of a saint—I don't know how she managed to play mother to all of those boys in the movies and the books. Even if it was just pretend, she gets an "A" for patience. I, on the other hand-

"SIT DOWN ALREADY! DAMN IT! STOP THROWING FOOD AT EACH OTHER! YOU'RE CENTURIES OLD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"

—could've been better.

Peter's command that I cook the meals stayed true as the previous two nights and today I was in charge of all of the meals. It was great having a little bit of power, now that I at least got to choose what I ate, but that also meant I was in charge of cleaning up after everyone was done eating. And, well, the Lost Ones were a bunch of dicks. The only ones who actually sat down and ate were Devin and Scar-Faced, but neither had spoken to me that day. Even Pan somewhat ignored me all day, which I was quite thankful for, but I couldn't stand that the only two boys I was comfortable around enough to attempt and seduce we're ignoring me. I had my money on Pan telling them that they couldn't talk to me that day.

This thought really irritated me. Who honestly put him in charge in the first place? Felix looked like he could easily beat the shit out of the little shit had he found a way past his magic. But, no, he wouldn't do it. None of the boys would. Hell, I'd be lucky if any of them managed to find me slightly attractive enough to be seduced by me!

I sighed and ran a hand through my bangs in frustration. One of the boys came in front of me, grinning at me teasingly. He was just about to jump away from me when a wild idea came to my mind and I grabbed him by the forearm, using the act of surprise to pull him over to me so that we were now face-to-face, our noses grazing for a moment. I tried my best to give the "innocent" look.

He hissed at me, "What?"

"I have to say, I'm disappointed," I murmured, looking him in the eye as I said this.

He scoffed at me, rolling his eyes. "I am, too! You're useless! Why would Peter want you around, anyways?"

That brat was about to get punched in the jaw. "I thought you were . . ." my cheeks turned bright red, not from nervousness but more from embarrassment over this shit ass attempt to "flirt" with one of the older boys, "better . . . than the rest." I bit my lip shyly, looking back up at him. "And you're right, I'm useless, so I was hoping that someone like you would help me?"

He stared at me long and hard, not seeming to know what to say. The boy with the unknown name hadn't been expecting that kind of response from me, but I never got to know his answer to my terrible attempt at flirting because I was suddenly dragged away from the savagely innocent boy by a strong arm, who I could only guess was Scar-Faced.

My suspicions were confirmed when we got far enough away from the crowd of rowdy boys and he dropped my forearm, smirking deviously at me. "It's your bed time, Puck."

My lips pursed. "Excuse me?"

"Peter gave specific orders that if you get friendly with any of the boys you be sent to bed," was all he said before he pushed past me to walk away.

My mind tried to wrap itself around what had just happened. I turned on my heel and followed the brute saying, "Why can't I talk to any of the boys?"

"I think we both know that you weren't just talking to him, Puck," he gave me a side look, still smirking.

Well, I wasn't going down that easily! "Can I at least talk to you?" I tried, shoving my hands into my shorts' pockets.

He didn't even spare me a glance as he replied, "Are you going to jump me again?"

Okay, seriously? That was two nights ago! "I was only saying hello! And-wait, is that why you've been avoiding me?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You truly are one ignorant girl, Puck."

"How?!"

"You don't know that I know exactly what you're trying to do here." He finally looked at me, no expression to betray whatever emotion he was feeling. "You're not that clever, are you?"

I took a moment to consider this. "I guess you could say that's why I failed Algebra Two at least three times." I shuddered at those terrible memories. I hates math.

Scar-Faced let out a chuckle, even though I was willing to bet that he had no idea what I was talking about. "Go back to your bed, Puck."

Way to be a buzzkill, asshole. "I'd rather spend time with you," I told him, for the first time being completely honest. My bed was starting to give me back pains and I wasn't even tired!

"I'd rather you not," he deadpanned without missing a beat.

"And yet you're the one in charge of watching me-well, that is, until I hugged you and now you're avoiding me." As an afterthought, I decided to be bold and ask, "You didn't get in trouble for that, did you?"

He sent me a curious look, "Why would I have?"

"I did," I told him blandly, my nose wrinkling in disgust at the memory.

Scar-Faced shook his head. "If you were in trouble, you'd still be bearing the bruises. You'd have those for a while."

I sent him a bewildered look. "He hits you guys?!"

Scar-Faced laughed at this. "Such like a girl to feel sensitive to the idea of being hit."

My mouth still hung open, but I ignored his comment. "Why do you all even follow him?" Don't ask me where this boldness came from, I've got no idea! "He's such an asshole to all of you! You could die and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash!"

Scar-Faced's eyes flashed dangerously at me, but that careless smirk remained intact as he stopped dead in his tracks and I followed in suit. He leaned down so that I was once again face to face with someone that night, the two of us in a similar situation we had been caught in a few days earlier. Well, I say "days", but it had been permanently night since the day after I arrived in this hellhole.

I, being too stubborn to back down from a random stare down, held the eye contact defiantly. "What?"

He said nothing, only tilting his head to the side curiously as if he were examining me. It was only then that I noticed how close the two of our faces were-and I mean I really noticed it. Sure, it was a manner of intimidation, but the way our breaths mingled made a sudden nausea wave come over my stomach and my heart sped up as I noticed him leaning in, not knowing what to do. Do I punch him? Do I make out with him (it's been a while)?! What?! Was it worth breaking the image now?

I'll try lightly pushing him away and see what that does. . . .

Pressing my hand to his chest in an attempt to push him away as nicely as possible, he stopped me by grabbing my hand and continued to lean in. My hand was sweaty as hell so I have no idea how it didn't just slip out of his grasp, but it didn't. My heart felt like it was having a panic attack of some sort as I noticed that the only thing I could really do in that moment without breaking my image was take it like a (wo)man.

A tingling sensation flooded through me when I felt his lips lightly brush mine, but they didn't come down onto my own. Instead, I practically felt the smirk on his face as he murmured teasingly to me, "Don't let anyone beat you at your own game, Puck."

My heart stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief at this turn of events, but neither of us moved. I didn't move because I was in too much shock that Scar-Faced actually had a really sexy side to him for someone who hasn't gotten any action in a while and he stood there for god knows what reason. It pissed me off that I was being teased like this when I was suffering from some major dry spell, but at the same time having any sort of intimate contact with someone else. My hormones wanted me to take advantage of the moment and just start making out with him to sustain my sudden lust for intimate contact, but because of who he was I held my ground, but it was starting to feel quite shaky.

Scar-Faced finally pulled away, leaving me with my eyes closed and frozen like a rock. I refused to open my eyes until I couldn't hear his footsteps or his dark chuckle anymore, and then I did exactly what I was told to do for once and I headed towards my makeshift bed in a slight hormone frenzy.

There was a slight rustling noise from behind me but before I could respond to it I heard him say, "I see you've been enjoying yourself."

I didn't even bother to hide the loud, irritated groan my body generated the moment I heard Pan. "I was doing wonderful not having to talk to you these past two days," came my snarky remark.

He chuckled, but didn't sound amused at all. I turned around to face him, finding him leaning against the tree casually by his side, his arms crossed, and his left leg crossed over his right. "I thought I warned you to not be so friendly with my boys, Puck."

"If you were stalking me correctly, then you'd know that he came into me!"

He appeared beside me, taking a firm hold of my shoulder. "How many times must I warn you before you understand that there will be consequences for your actions?"

I let out a frustrated groan, throwing my arms up in the air. "I didn't start this one! He initiated the almost kiss with me!"

His grip tightened on me, his eyes narrowing. "You best watch your tongue to your leader."

I scoffed. "Leader?" I shook my head at him. "I don't do anything you say and you think you can call me your leader?" My head turned towards him daringly. "You need a reality check, Pan."

He said nothing, seeming quite amused by my response. This only irked me further, but before I could let my distaste me known, his grip on my hand was suddenly gone along with the rest of his form, thus freaking me the hell out.

_Well, okay then. . . ._

His magic mumbo jumbo was seriously giving me the hibbie jibbies. But, just to spite the troll and his magical abilities, I stormed right back over to where the camp was and found that all of the boys were still rough housing and dancing around like animals, all of their food remaining untouched. It took everything in me not to scream at the sight.

Let me tell you something: watching the Lost Ones was a trip in itself. Pan would play his flute thing every night and it was like everyone suddenly lost themselves in the music that I couldn't here. Oh, yes, let's talk about that as well—I couldn't understand what the excitement was all about! Pan would put that little instrument up to his lips and suddenly, while I still sat on the sidelines and wondered what the hell was wrong with him, all of the boys dropped everything they were doing and danced around the campfire performing tricks one right after the other. It would have been a precious sight to see, young boys dancing and having a good time, had it not seemed so . . . forced. Like, they themselves didn't seem forced to be doing anything, but something in my gut told me that had Pan not been "playing" his music, then they wouldn't be doing this in the first place. They'd probably be off killing people or something along those lines.

My eyes caught Devin's and suddenly, adding onto the awkward silence that I already, erm, _heard_ (I guess we can go with that). He stopped dancing only for a short moment to motion for me to join them in their dancing, astonishing me. What the hell kind of drugs was he on? Sure, I had tried to seduce him the other night, but it was so out of character for Devin to do something like that! A part of me felt like it had something to do with the nonexistent music that Pan was currently playing.

Speaking of which, the imp seemed to have poofed off my arm and right to the campsite seeing as everyone was dancing when I had arrived. Pan was sitting on a log in the middle of the circle just next to the fire and although a part of me thought it'd be funny to push him into the fire, another larger part of me knew that any chance of survival I had on his island would have disappeared with that shove.

_It'd be worth it. . . ._

His eyes met mine and I looked away, breaking yet another eye contact within the last few seconds. Have you ever had one of those moments? Lemme tell you—it's awkward as all get out!

It got even more awkward for me when I broke the eye contact with Pan and made immediate eye contact with none other than Scar-Faced, who seemed to be feeling as awkward as myself when our eyes met. He, too, had been dancing and rough housing amongst the boys, but stopped the moment our eyes met and this gave me a bad feeling—a _really_ bad feeling. What if I had done something to him and Devin? Ah, shit! What if I broke them?! Wasn't hypnosis (which is what I'm guessing Pan was using on them) only supposed to work on functioning brains? Not that any of them had any in the first place, but still!

My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips nervously, looking down at the ground momentarily before looking back up and noticing yet another boy had stopped his wild dancing to stare at me. I sent him one of my fantastically awkward (wow, I've used that word a lot already!) waves before looking back to the fire, only to find that Pan was there, also giving me a strange look.

_Oh god, please don't tell me that the hypnotic nonexistent music is telling them to offer me up as a live sacrifice! I'm _so_ not mentally prepared to die by being burnt to death!_

Okay, all of this really needed to stop. Licking my lips one more time, I rose up out of my seat to walk away but my forearm was grabbed and I clenched my fist up, ready to give either Pan or Scar-Faced a nice punch in the eye but when I turned around I noticed that it was a boy I had never really talked to before. He was grinning cheekily at me and was dragging me out to the fire, alerting me at once.

His words, though, were, "Dance with me!"

My lips tightened up into a thin line. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"Don't be boring, Puck!" he laughed, forcing me around the circle.

I guess to anybody else watching, it would have been amusing to have this boy dancing his heart out while he dragged a less than enthusiastic girl around by her forearm, trying to get her to dance with him. I'm being completely serious when I say that the only part of my body that was moving were my legs, which were being dragged around. I mean, well, I think my eye was twitching in horror at the boy before me, but let's not get too technical with the moment.

"I'd much rather dance to some music," I tried on the boy, raising one hand to his to, hopefully, loosen his grip on my forearm.

He laughed, giving me an odd look. "You don't hear it?"

"Nope," I said quite proudly (one for me none for Pan, if you didn't count him kidnapping me a win for him), popping the 'P'. "So, darn, maybe another time after I have my ears checked and you all have your sanity checked, yeah? Yeah. Now, lemme go or I'll bite you."

Once again, he laughed out loud as if what I had just said were the funniest joke ever told to mankind. I tried to free my forearm from him then, hoping that his laughter would make his grip looser, but I had no such luck. I internally cussed him out for putting me in such a predicament where I actually felt the need to kill someone. That feeling only got worse when I realized more and more boys had been caught out of the spell thing and had their eyes on me now, seeming to be caught up in some new sort of spell.

Long story short, I was feeling awkward, freaked out, and homicidal all at once.

Ah, great! And to make matters worse, Pan was staring at me as if I were a piece of meat. Fan-fucking-tastic!

A plan quickly jotted itself into my mind as I looked around frantically in search of something to help me out with this annoying problem I had hanging on my arm (for real) and the most insane (apart from attack hugging Scar-Faced) and ridiculous (I repeat, the incident with Scar-Faced) idea popped into my head, but I didn't have time to think about how crazy it was at the time as I was acting on instinct when I grabbed the first soup bowl I could find.

I offered it to the boy in front of me, who paused to give me a strange look. "Here, eat. You must be hungry," I insisted, attempting to twist my forearm out of his grasp. It didn't work.

He laughed me off, rolling his eyes and mentioning to another boy that it would be such a girl thing to worry about someone else's hunger when it was time for a party. Meanwhile, my stomach felt sick as I realized what I was just about to do but I knew that if I were going to win whatever was going on here, then I couldn't back out of it. The only comfort I had was knowing that this boy seemed to be about my age before he stopped aging in _Neverland _(ugh, I'm never going to get over that!).

With shaking hands, I lifted the bowl up to my mouth and sucked some of the cold soup into my mouth, placing the bowl down next to me before using my free hand to catch the unsuspecting boy's chin, and with a bold daring that wasn't my own, I got on my tip toes and slammed our lips together, causing a suddenly silence to form in the camp. Seriously, any of the boys who had been dancing before just stopped and stared at us. How did I know this? I could practically _feel_ their eyes on me.

Once I was finished forcing the remnants of the soup in my mouth into his, I pulled away and he finally released my forearm, staring at me in wonder. All I did was stare blankly at him, before leaning back down, picking up the bowl, and offering it to him again. "Now, eat," I told him firmly and he complied, taking the bowl from my hands, his cheeks a bright red and his mouth slightly hung open in shock.

I took a step away from him, slightly shocked at my own daringness to do such a thing to a boy that was centuries of years old, but I had to push that thought to the back of my mind to force back any puke that would possibly jump back up and resurface. Looking around at the other boys, I forced a smile and said, "You all need to eat, too, if you'll have your strength to go fight grizzly bears tomorrow or whatever the hell it is you all do while I stay here and mope about how much this sucks." No one argued with me this time, not even the boy who had given me attitude earlier and I had _attempted_ to seduce before I was oh so rudely interrupted by none other than Scar-Faced himself.

Speaking of which, the only three who didn't take their soup bowls and begin to eat were the three who had already finished their portions long ago and the same three who seemed to have a personal vendetta against me now: Scar-Faced (he looked about ready to give me a matching scar), Devin (who looked absolutely heartbroken and I figured I needed to make it up to him somehow later, hopefully not giving him that bad of a first crush experience), and, of course, Pan. Out of all three of them, his glare made me the most uncomfortable. There were a million emotions put into one look and the one that stood out the most to me was the blazing fury he was currently feeling. Remembering back to the almost-kiss I shared with Scar-Faced, a part of me wondered if he had been the one to put Scar-Faced up to it and now they were both pissed off because I was taking their advice—no one here, not one of these little lost boys, was going to make me lose at my own game.

I gave a smartass smirk to them and waved before confidentially strutted away from the campsite and into the woods, making my short walk to my makeshift bed. The thought of having won this round of whatever sick game we were playing, my heart rate sped up in cheer as my cheeks definitely turned red with warm happiness, my eyes casting downward as I thought of the life I had left back in my world, realm, _whatever_ it was called. The thought of never going back had dwindled away from me and was replaced by the small amount of hope that I could return, if I wasn't offered up as a live sacrifice to Pan and his inner cannibalistic side. I wanted to scream out of joy.

Well, within a moment, I did let out a short scream, but it wasn't from my giddiness.

A hand shot out to grab my face, effectively covering my mouth to keep me from screaming as loud as I would have liked, and my back was slammed into a random tree trunk I _had_ been passing before I was so rudely interrupted during my strut. My eyes closed as I winced at the contact my back made with the trunk and I slowly managed to peek one eye open only to be greeted with Pan and his snarl. Wow, he definitely looked pretty pissed if I had ever seen a pretty pissed guy!

"Uh, hi?" I tried.

"What do you hope to accomplish with this?" he asked me, obviously trying to keep his cool and not yell, because it was simple—Peter Pan did not yell. He liked to have fun (even if his idea of fun was kidnapping and possibly skinning people alive) and was a boy, who somehow was a leader amongst his Lost Boys (or Ones, I just don't even know what to call them anymore!) and in their eyes he was their perfect leader. Their poor judgment worried me immensely but that's beside the point. The point is, he couldn't show his anger towards me and that made me slightly grateful that he kept up the childish demeanor, even when no one was there to watch us.

_Wow, I make no sense whatsoever. I really need to stop rambling._

"Say what?" I tried the innocent act.

He took a firm grip of my hair, yanking hard on it until a scream left my lips, my mind convinced that he was trying to rip it out right from the roots. However, he did no such thing. Instead, he yanked my head to the side and put his face into my neck, biting hard down on the exposed skin and earning yet another scream from me, only it wasn't one of fear or pleasure, it was one of pure revulsion. I pressed my hands against him, fighting hard to keep him away from me, to put a safe distance between us so that he could do whatever the hell he was doing to me anymore. But, nothing worked. He had a firm grasp on my hair still, tugging it whenever he thought it necessary as he invaded my neck, trailing his disgusting tongue from under my ear down to my collarbone, where he nipped at me again, much more gently but just as revolting as the first time. I gasped and tried to use my knee to kick him away, but he took advantage of my fighting and grabbed my knee in mid-air and placed it around his waist so that he could press himself against me. My leg fell down and I tried to use it to move him away from me, but his body was much stronger than my own.

Pan's grip on my hair tightened, probably trying to get a reaction out of me, but I only whimpered and tightly shut my eyes, hoping that this was some sick, fucked up dream I was having and when I opened my eyes again he would be gone, and so would his saliva on my neck. Alas, he was very much real and proved his point by sucking down on the skin where my neck met my shoulder, making me open my eyes wide and start shoving against him even more now. He definitely would leave a hickey at this rate but I didn't want him to mark me. It was bad enough that he actually thought he owned me in some sick, fucked up way just because he kidnapped me!

When he was satisfied with having violated me, he took his face away from my neck but only pulled back far enough so that our eyes could meet again. He wanted to see me cry, probably. I definitely would have had he not been there to be so amused by it. The only thing I couldn't stop was my bottom lip quivering in disgust at what had just happened. This was enough for Pan to smirk at me deviously, pulling my head back to the side to get a good look at the hickey he had definitely left on me from this encounter.

With his free hand, he lightly traced it, seeming to admire them in some psychotic way of his. His lack of sanity seriously worried me. "I wonder how you'll cover this up," he mused, putting my head back where it was so that we could see eye to eye again. "When the Lost Boys see this, none of them will fall for your . . . well . . ." he let out a dark, humorless chuckle, "I suppose we can call it _charms_ for now." I was about to punch him in the face.

"Get away from me," my voice finally forced out and I mentally swore at the way my voice quivered, giving away that I was about ready to break down and cry like a baby.

He let out another humorless chuckle. "As you wish, Puck. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast." He leaned in close to my ear, getting a flinch out of me that I bet that he was hoping for. "I look forward to it." And then, with the blink of an eye, he was gone and an immense relief fell over me.

I grabbed hold of the tree trunk behind me to steady me as my knees shook and threatened to give out, but I wasn't going to let anybody see me weak, not even myself. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out in a fashion meant to calm one down, I closed my eyes and hung my head low to the ground, knowing that it was no good having one of my infamous anxiety attacks here in Neverland with no one to calm me down. And knowing that asshole, Pan would take full advantage of my hysteric state if he saw it. It'd be easy enough, to be honest.

With enough confidence that I wouldn't collapse onto the ground, I pushed myself off of the tree trunk and steadied myself , wiping the corners of my eyes which had been threatening tears ever since Pan left and they felt free to leave on their own accord. I still didn't allow them, though, sniffing them and nasty snot back as I continued to try and breathe this one out. I ended up just on the floor where I hadn't wanted to be, holding my knees close to my chest as I rocked myself back and forth, chanting to myself that this was all just a dream and that I'd soon wake up to him—to Alexander, my darling Alex. However, thoughts of him, only made me feel worse as I realized that I wasn't going home and I had left the person who meant the most to me in all of the universes and realms (if there were such a thing) combined. But, I still didn't cry. I tried to make myself feel numb, knowing it would help, that it would be the only way to stay strong.

"Someone looks like they're not so cheeky anymore," a voice drawled from behind me, causing me to freeze in embarrassment. Someone had caught me freaking out, and it sounded a lot like Scar-Faced. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were crying." Yep, definitely Scar-Faced.

"I'm not crying!" I snapped at him, whirling around on my butt to face him as if showing my not tear-stained face would do any good. It did my ego, at least.

He raised a curious eyebrow at me and at that moment I liked to think that it was because he had actually expected to find me crying. "You're thinking of your past life."

A loud, irritated groan escaped me. "It's not my _past_ life, damn it! I'm not leaving my life in the past like the rest of you cowards have!"

He seemed hardly affected by my words or tone, remaining stoic with his clubbed tossed casually over his shoulder. "What have I done to incur the wrath of our dear, precious Puck?"

I ignored the obvious million answers to that simple question. "Why the hell am I here, Felix?" I hissed, jumping up to my feet and running over to him, daring him in the eye. "I _need_ to know why I'm here," my voice almost cracked but my stance did not, nor did my eyes as I continued to glare at him. "Or else you'll probably find me throwing myself into the fire pit tomorrow and if you all so desperately need me here then that'll be shit luck for you all."

He eyebrow raised higher, almost as if he were impressed or shocked. "You'd kill yourself to escape?"

"I _really_ don't like it here."

"But, killing yourself would be taking it too far, don't you think?"

"Damn it, Felix, just answer my fucking question before I find a way to shove your club up your ass!"

"First suicide now violence?"

"_Felix_. . . ."

He chuckled, taking his thumb and rubbing it across my cheek gently and I automatically took this as a threat but did not move to slap his hand away, instead being focusing on keeping our stare down going. "You have no need to worry your pretty, stupid little head, Puck," he murmured. "The answer will come with time."

_If only looks could kill, I swear to God. . . ._

"Oh, and nice little bruise you've got there."

Fucking hell. Kill me now.


End file.
